Another Soul, Cut the Same
by liger1983
Summary: Jasper and his new-found mate weather The South, new friends, and old enemies. Sequel to The South Has Spoiled Me.
1. Chapter 1 - Afterglow

**The Horrible Crowes - Cherry Blossoms**

* * *

Afterglow: the time of day just after the sun is swallowed by the horizon and the sky looks as though it has been brushed with watercolor. The glow of warmth and comfort that comes after a high. I relished them both, languid as I lounged in the soft grass. My hair - which I had trimmed and curled in preparation for tonight - fanned around my face; my fingers, stretched far above my head, brushed the soft fur of my just-finished meal; and I arched my back. I had been delicate with my food tonight, not letting a drop of the doe's blood touch my new sundress or sandals and ruin my plans.

Though I had let my eyes drift shut with the setting sun, I could sense Jasper was close, his own thirst satiated, by the lovely feelings he was emitting. His pleasure and affection edged my comfort closer to ecstasy, which built even further as I felt him settle next to me. His fingers brushed my cheek and I curled myself against him.

"Enjoying date night, Darlin'?" he asked. I nodded and smiled, finally opening my eyes to meet his. They were a light butterscotch, soft as he examined my face. My own eyes had only just begun to temper my new diet. Just three weeks into vegetarianism, they were closer to amber.

I asked, "Did you enjoy your meal?"

My gaze darted briefly to his button down and jeans as I examined them for blood. I found none. He was just as careful as I.

"Yes," he replied. Jasper wrapped his arms around me and slowly rolled us, until he was flat on his back, holding me tight, my body sprawled on top of his. His warm breath ruffled through my hair as he spoke. "You should eat something else. It's a long drive to Peter and Charlotte's, and there isn't much of anywhere to stop on the way."

"I will," I promised, shifting in his lap. I dragged myself across his stomach as I sat up, the rough denim of his jeans chafing my bare inner thighs - my dress had spilled to either side of my straddled legs. I felt the first curls of lust: his and mine, one in the same. My gaze unabashedly worked over his body, taking in broad shoulders and lean muscle and I breathed, "food can wait."

I let my hand trail down the path my eyes had made, dragging across his chest and down his abdomen.

"Sarah," Jasper murmured, his voice gentle and husky. I leaned down, my hand cupping his cheek; he whispered my name and his adoration between kisses. His lips against mine, firm and cold but more gentle than they had ever been, pulled a soft moan from deep within me. I moaned his name . . . _Jasper . . ._ and his hand, resting against my waist, tightened. My skin yielded to his touch, curving under his fingertips. Every part of me yearned to have him inside.

He whispered, "So beautiful."

My hips, moving of their own mind, rolled and shifted against him, trying to soothe the building pressure.

"Oh my God," I moaned, "Please touch me."

Jasper grinned, flipping us at vampiric speed. And I was on my back, laying amongst the butterfly weeds with my arms around his neck and his body comfortably situated between my legs. I pushed myself against him, my body begging for his.

"Shh," he whispered, trailing kisses down my neck. I could feel his teasing smile against my skin. He said, "be patient, Darlin'."

His fingertips were slow, agonizingly slow, as he pushed my dress up over my hips and stomach. The volume of pleasure had been turned higher by our gifts. The strain and pressure of desire - I felt his and mine, mingling in the pit of my stomach, driving my need. The lust and affection - the emotions I knew he was feeling, mine as though they were his own. He pulled my face to his, drowning my senses in a passionate kiss. The scents of the woods and the touch of the grass against my knees faded. All that mattered, all that registered, was the tangle of his hands in my hair and the smell of his skin. I'd had enough patience.

I threw my arms around his neck and crushed my lips to his, using the momentum, and near my full strength, to flip us.

"Ow," Jasper said - he was grinning - as he slammed into the ground. My fists curled into the fabric of his shirt and yanked, spraying buttons across the forest floor.

A scent, a distraction, danced with the breeze - the barest hint of sweet human blood - and ruffled through my hair. My heavy breath snagged in my throat, but the thirst was sated, and one touch from my lover pulled my attention back him. He kissed along my jawline.

Seduction: the pull of every touch and kiss and whisper, drawing us closer to its inevitable conclusion. The temptation that floated towards my nose and lit my throat on fire. It had grown stronger, the human - humans? - had come closer, and the fire in my throat was joined by the twin burn of another.

I turned a desperate gaze to Jasper, yearned for him to stop me, and his eyes locked on mine. They were dark, near black, with wild thirst and desire. My lust was driving his higher. My thirst was driving his higher. Thirst and Lust. They warred, twisting and turning together. Two vipers intertwined.

Thirst won. It bit into my throat.

I yanked my body from Jasper's arms and ran towards the source of temptation. He was just behind me, his footsteps light in the spring of damp grass.

The scene was a few short moments away: a man and a woman, intertwined against a rock, his hulking body covering hers. His fist crushed her delicate wrists into the granite and her back was being grated by the rough surface of the boulder. Blood oozed from the shallow scrapes. His other hand stifled her whimpers and pleadings, but her wide, panicked eyes screamed and could not be silenced.

Their camping gear was scattered around the site. Two sleeping bags, one gray and one a pale purple, were zipped together, spilling out of a large tent. A pair of camping chairs sat next to a dying fire, one collapsed to its side. An all-terrain vehicle rested a few yards away, no doubt how they navigated the rocky trails to this site.

"Shut up, Emma!" the man growled. He slammed his hand into the rock by her head. I scratched at my arms; they burned with her pain.

Rage bubbled inside me. If there was any man who deserved to die, in that moment, I could swear this man did. But it was her blood that flooded my senses, rich and hot and sweet. And I hesitated.

The woman's blood. Blood. Blood!

I took a step towards the woman, my gaze intent on her neck. The long lines of her throat. The throb of her jugular. Her wrist. The broken skin. The slowly dripping wine.

I was just a step from her, my eyes wild with thirst. Her heart beat faster. Fear.

Jasper appeared behind me, throat burning. His fingers dug into his palm, cracking his own flesh with the effort of not murdering an innocent woman.

The woman's blood slipped down her fragile wrist.

I closed the inches between us.

One last burst of resolve. Jasper shoved me towards the man. My teeth sank into his dense, muscled neck.

Ambrosia exploded into my mouth as my victim's pain exploded through my throat. A distraction. I let my gift free, closing the man's synapses and easing his agony. His limp body collapsed against me. The blood flowed warm and rich. A Michelin Star restaurant compared to the fast food of animal blood. How had I sustained myself on anything less? I heard Jasper - his voice hollow, like it was coming from a great distance - growl at the woman, ordering her to flee. As she scrambled towards her ATV, My Love stepped to the other side of the man. His throat was burning and his resolve was weakening. His eyes were wide, black coals.

Jasper sank his teeth into the man's jugular, accepting blood into his long-starved body.

Between both of us, each pulling at the plasma, it was drained quickly. And the corpse dropped to the forest floor.

' _Saints of God, come to their aid, come to meet them, Angels of the Lord.'_

I whispered it breathlessly.

Guilt. It hit Jasper like a bullet and he dropped to his knees. He hung his head as the human blood stained his eyes. I felt it too, the contrition, the shame, tugging at my heart. Stinging my eyes - my crimson eyes, the progress of the past weeks had been erased. But my mate, my Jasper, was in so much pain. I knelt in the grass next to the . . . next to _it,_ and reached across the expanse to brush my fingertips along Jasper's cheek. He flinched from my touch and I drew my hand back like it had been burned, my breath frozen in my throat. Did he blame me? It had been my undisciplined thirst he had succumb to.

"I - I'm sorry," I stammered. _Look at me, Jasper! Look at me!_

It was only a second before my fear was soothed. Jasper reached for my hand and held it against his face. His skin was hot and flushed from feeding, and he clung to my hand with both of his. The love poured from him as freely, as always, but the guilt . . . I was drowning in our joined guilt. Jasper picked me up, and I settled in his lap with his arms wrapped tight around me. I closed my eyes and buried my face in his bare chest, ignoring the flecks of red that dotted his white skin, breathing him in until all I could smell was the cedar and clove of my mate.

We remained as statues for close to an hour while the man's body cooled and the sun dropped low in the sky.

"Jasper?" I breathed.

"Yes?"

His voice cracked and my heart broke.

"We'll need to take care of this," I said. The corpse, the tent, the spray of blood across the rocks and the dirt - all of it would need to disappear. Quickly, as the woman would likely inform the police of what had transpired. At least what she had seen. But Jasper's eyes had not left the ground, the constant pounding of shame had not left his soul, and I offered, "I can do it. If you need some time."

"No," he said. He pushed himself off the ground and tried brushed the dirt from his jeans, but it only smeared. "I'm fine. Let's work."

He glanced around the scene and said, "I'll go back to the cabin -"

The ranger's cabin, the place we had been staying for these few weeks, was deep in the Blue Ridge mountains. It had no electricity or hot water and was full of dust and splintered wood, but it was a place to be. It had a porch to sit on as we got to know each other and it had a bed for us to make use of.

"- and get us some shovels," Jasper finished, "we'll burn and bury everything."

I said, "I'll get rid of the ATV tracks. Meet you back here."

Jasper nodded solemnly and left. He took the bulk of the heaviness with him, and the guilt, shame, and melancholy lifted off my shoulders.

"Oh, Jas," I breathed, watching his retreating form as he ran.

I turned to the scene before me. The tents, the sleeping bags, the assorted camping gear. It would be burned. My eyes skipped over the corpse and my stomach turned. The tire tracks, cutting rough paths through the soft dirt. I would follow them to a bend in the road, blurring and obscuring them, then I would fell a tree. Any ranger the woman located would be sure she was lost. That her ATV could not possibly have crossed there. There would be no evidence to support her claims. The poor girl may be called a fool, but at least she would be spared the truth.

I followed through on my plans with deft and practiced hands, absent of my mind. I was considering our circumstances. With a body behind us, toil before us, Heaven above and Hell below us, I made my way back to the meeting place.

When Jasper returned, he carried two shovels, a small can of gasoline, and some clothes in his hands. Worn jeans for him, a dress for me. It was a simple dress, heather gray and cotton. Somber, and I wondered if that had crossed his mind. He sat the clothes to the side. Wordlessly, he tossed a shovel to me and we began to work. A pit, roughly eight feet long and six feet deep, appeared. We tossed the camping gear in. The body, wrapped in sleeping bags, followed. It didn't quite fit. The man's feet, clad in durable-looking hiking boots, and a sliver of cold, pale ankle stuck out from the bag.

Jasper yanked the tattered remains of his shirt from his body, tossing the blood-stained fabric into the hole. As he unbuckled his jeans, I pulled my sundress over my head. It left me in just black lingerie. It clung to my skin and accentuated my curves, and I glanced at Jasper. His hair had fallen in his face, but, through the loose strands, he was watching me. His jeans, unzipped and hanging dangerously low on his hips, revealed the waistband of his boxers. My eyes met his, and he turned his head, laughing ruefully. How differently this night was supposed to go.

We redressed swiftly, tossing the old clothes into the pit and dropping a burning lighter onto the pile. It went up in flames.

* * *

 **"Bones broke in half  
** **A stain on my shirt  
** **From a couple hours out with the boys  
** **And all good things come to an end."**


	2. Chapter 2 - Gravel to Sandy Brush

The Oklahoma sky was acid washed by the midday sun and Jasper's bare chest was casting tiny rainbows across the pitch interior of the truck we had rented. It was a Dodge Ram SRT-10, words that meant nothing to me, but Jasper had said them like they meant something and I would defer to his judgement. It was fast, as far as pickup trucks go, and had carried us across three states overnight. Our hands were intertwined, resting on the expanse of seat between us, but we had barely spoken two words to each other. Mulling things over as Georgia turned to Tennessee and turned to Arkansas.

"Somethin' wrong, Darlin'?" Jasper asked. I raised an eyebrow at him. "Besides the obvious?"

"Mmmhmm." He didn't take his eyes off the road, but the pad of his thumb traced lazy circles across my skin.

"Oh, I suppose its related," I said. I shifted in my seat, taking a long, deep breath. So many words had gone unsaid, not just for the weeks I had spent with Jas, but for the years, decades, centuries I had agonized over my fate. I said, "I used to be a good person. When I was human. Before all this."

Not a saint, not by any stretch of the imagination. But I had been a faithful wife, a loving mother, and a dutiful nurse. I had hated to see even a flash of pain in someone's eyes. It was where my gift had come from. I would have done anything to ease a patient's suffering.

"You're still a good person," Jasper said. It was hard not to laugh. The humor was not born of any lightness of subject, but the utter ridiculousness of the statement. I said, "I've killed people. So many people."

One just hours ago. I still remember the searing pain of my venom in his veins and the cold, clammy texture of his bloodless corpse, rotting in the Georgia sun.

"So, have I," Jasper said. He squeezed my hand. "You should forgive yourself."

I shook my head. The scenery flew by at well over a hundred miles per hour. Long expanses of cerulean sky. A large green sign that read 'Welcome to Texas'. An armadillo made its lazy way down the side of the road, it's long claws clicking at the fragmented corners of the pavement where gravel turned to sandy brush. Welcome to Texas indeed.

"Do you?" I asked, "Forgive yourself?"

I already knew. He had near-daily fits of guilt. When there was a lull in conversation, or we had touched on a sensitive topic. Even now, shame was simmering under the surface of our interaction.

"No," Jasper admitted, "but you should."

"Ha! Hypocrite." I laughed dryly.

"Hardly," he replied, "I'm workin' on it. It gets easier. The longer you go without human blood."

"I'm sorry," I whispered. He had gone decades before he met me.

Jasper's hand brushed through my hair, scattering the curls. He cupped my face, soothed his thumb along my cheek, and said, "No, Baby. That wasn't your fault."

He smiled good-naturedly. "I'm an adult. I make my own choices."

I shrugged. "But you wouldn't have slipped if I hadn't first. If I could have kept my own thirst under control, then you wouldn't have had to feel it."

"I imagine my throat burning didn't help you? I influenced your gift as much as you influenced mine?"

I had no argument, and he took my silence as ascension.

"I plan to call Carlisle when we arrive in Dalhart," Jasper said, "perhaps he has heard of mates with . . . complementary gifts."

"That's a nice way of putting it," I deadpanned.

"Hey, it ain't all bad," he said, "remember what we were doing before all that?"

A real, full laugh found its way out of my chest, and a bright grin lit Jasper's face at the sound. It was certainly not all bad. Feeling every touch, every emotion of my lover as though they were my own. Knowing how he responds to my touch or to my kiss. It was intensely erotic.

I examined his form: a hard, muscular statue, the perfect replica of a Greek masterpiece. Dipping my head until the curtain of my hair brushed his skin, I kissed the contour of his shoulder, the very line where a commemorative bust would end. Though there were a few things lower down that deserved to be celebrated.

"Are planning to wear clothes today, Jas?" I asked, resting my cheek on his arm. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, securing my body to his. Safety. Comfort.

He laughed. "I'm wearing clothes. Jeans, see?"

He bumped his knee against mine, the denim dragging along my bare skin.

"Besides, Darlin'," he said, "are you asking me to put clothes _on_?"

"Hmm," I hummed, running my fingers along his collar bone, "no, I'm not."

"Didn't think so," he said. His gaze dropped to mine for the first time, flicking away from the long stretch of gray ahead of us. The bright crimson startled me, somehow it colored his features differently. The upward turn to his mouth showed his good humor when placed next to butterscotch eyes but looked menacing next to the bloody color his irises had taken. The handsome, strong lines of his jaw and his cheekbones now looked sharp and sinister. I wasn't afraid - how could I be when he regarded me so tenderly? - but it had become easier to see how he was once a feared commander of the largest newborn army in the South.

Maria's army had been something of legend, even in Atlanta. The leadership of my former company excused their shortcomings by claiming they were only limited by the square footage of land being contested. Maria had the entirety of Mexico at her disposal and that was why she thrived. But it was, and had always been, Jasper's brilliant mind. The same mind that interpreted complex philosophy and knew every facet of history in every nuanced detail.

The same mind that had found a companion in me.

"Sarah?"

"Mmm?"

"Have you thought of contacting your family?" He said it gently, and I managed not to flinch. The sense of betrayal was still fresh.

My gaze skirted around the cab of the truck, searching for the scrap of paper I had tossed in as we were leaving. I found it, curled along the contours of the cupholder. The bright white, shiny photo - it was just a copy of the original and had been protected in a picture frame for many years - showed a picture of my family at its most full and its most . . . unpolluted. It was a black and white portrait, taken in the late 1940's. My father, Augustine, stood tall and proud in the top left, and his sons, in descending age, stood to his right. Daniel, the eldest of the two brothers, stood with his hands resting on his wife - my sister's - hips and his shaggy, dark hair falling in his face. Matthew was next to him, towering over us all. All three men wore sharp suits, cut in the latest fashions of the time. I sat in a chair, next to and holding hands with my sister, in front of my father. My hair was up in a pompadour, curled and tied with a ribbon, and my skirt, a little too short for the time as it was, had been pulled further up my thigh by the position I was sitting in. My brothers had teased me for being 'scandalous'. Heather was missing of course; the photo had been taken decades before she was born.

On the back of the picture - the ink still smelled fresh - were the words 'Kansas. I love you.' written in Joanna's perfect cursive. I had found it in my house, resting on the kitchen table as it waited to be discovered.

"I've thought about it," I said, "Dalhart isn't too far from Dodge City is it?"

"Just a couple hours," Jasper said.

I nodded, "Maybe I'll visit them."

"So, you know they're in Dodge City?"

"No," I replied, "not for sure. But that is where Dan and Matt grew up. Wasn't called Dodge City then. Kansas wasn't even a territory."

"They were pioneers?" Jasper asked.

"Yes, and their father before them. He left the colonies and moved west. Fell in love with a Pawnee woman. He gave his sons English names in case they ever had to assimilate."

Jasper nodded along. I knew he was placing the events into the timeline in his mind, mapping their place in history. "And they were turned . . .?"

"By Augustine. And Mary. She was Augustine's mate. Dan and Matt's parents had died of typhoid fever, and they wouldn't have lived much longer themselves. And Mary wanted children, so . . ."

"You had a mother?" Jasper said. The surprise was clear in his voice, but I shook my head. "No. She was killed in the first of the wars. In the 1830's. I never met her."

I thought for a minute, about the softness in Augustine's eyes when he had spoken of her, and the respect my brothers had carried for her, even so many years after her death.

"She was a lovely woman," I added, "from what I've been told."

Jasper smiled at me. "I'm sure she was."

"I miss them, Jasper."

He hugged me tighter.

* * *

 **A/N: My original plan was to upload Wednesday/Saturday, like I did with TSHSM, but I've been really excited and motivated to write this story and I've been finishing early. So, I think I'm going to post Tuesday/Friday. Let me know what you think so far. I love reading reviews! - Elizabeth**


	3. Chapter 3 - Wine Colored Eyes

_**The Horrible Crowes - Black Betty and the Moon**_

* * *

 _Outskirts of Atlanta, Georgia  
_ _April 12, 1867_

 _I sat on a fallen tree, breathing in the fetor of decay and taking in the subtle movements of insects as they ate away at the rot. The large field before me may have been lush with grass long ago, but it had been ground into patchy dust by the footfalls of thousands of fights. The newest recruits were destroying each other, working out their unfulfilled bloodlust. My skirt was ripped and stained, damaged in a tussle with a young man who thought he could have whatever he wanted. As a result, he could no longer have a hand. My sister, absent since sunrise, was nowhere to be found. This confluence of events left me gripping the wood-rot till it crumbled in my fists. I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and slip into a meditative state - the closest a vampire could get to sleep - but this was a luxury I could not afford. It may, in fact, cost my life. Newborns, their eyes as bright as fire and just as dangerous, hurled their untrained bodies at each other._

" _Sarah!"_

 _I spun to the sound._

 _Rachael. Her caramel curls spilled across her wine-colored eyes. The purple hue was unusual, even in the company of vampires. Her hair was tousled from the series of fights, tests for her and Jeremiah's newborns. And for me, and for Joanna. Every soldier in our army who was not considered an officer. From the moment the sun had risen above the horizon, I'd seen them limping from the bed-tents of Rachael and Jeremiah, or hopping, as they carried their severed limbs. Some who had strode confidently behind the curtain had not returned. Nerves rippled through me._

" _Come, My Little Doe," Rachael called, waving me over. She wore a bright grin, showing the gleaming tips of her canines. I followed my commander to her bed-tent. It was lavishly decorated, with tapestries and oriental rugs in royal shades of purple and blue. The furniture was accented in gold._

" _Are we going to fight, Rachael?" I smiled at her. "I'm supposed to be tested?"_

 _She giggled lightly. It floated over the breeze like chimes. "No. We'll just talk."_

 _Relief._

 _It was her affection for me, and, by extension, Joanna, that had carried us through our first three years unharmed, despite the death that inevitably came to our contemporaries. Soldiers were disposed of around the year mark. My gift may have afforded me another year, to test its merits in combat, but pain empathy was little more than a nuisance when you're surrounded by war. I owed my life to this woman._

" _I haven't seen Joanna today," Rachael lounged against the fabric of the tent, perched delicately on a velvet chaise, "Is she well?"_

" _She went hunting this morning -"_

 _Rachael quirked a painted eyebrow._

" _Jeremiah gave her permission," I added quickly, "she hasn't returned. I'm sure she won't be much longer."_

 _Rachael leaned in close to me, her purple eyes dancing and her lips twitching with confidences. Her love of secrets nearly rivaled her love of high culture._

" _I'm bored of him, Sarah."_

" _Of Jeremiah?" I asked. The room spun as I processed the implications. If I had a beating heart, it would race. I knew they weren't mates, she had confided that in me. Did her boredom spell a death sentence for Jeremiah? If her goal was his death, would she ask me to assist? Every drop I spilled, of blood or of venom, damned me, one fraction of my soul at a time. Rachael knew this. Maybe she would merely leave, take off in the night and leave Jeremiah with his army. Would she leave me with him? I would surely die._

" _Relax My Lavender Doe," Rachael cooed, "I haven't made a decision, and I will let you know when I do."_

 _She paused. "You and Joanna."_

" _His aura isn't dark enough for you? Didn't you say it was like an eggplant?" I asked. Mine was lavender. Joanna's was violet. Rachael's was the same dark wine of her irises._

" _The darkest I've seen," she replied, "but I've spent years with him. I know what a lack of humanity looks like. And I'm bored with it."_

 _That did not bode well for my relationship with her. Her interest in me, her seeming affection, was dependent on my 'lavender aura', the lightest she'd ever seen, and my apparent humanity - not the same as goodness, for I was not good. If her decades-long companion could be cast aside so easily, what did that mean for me?_

" _Still searching for the perfect middle?" I asked._

" _You would know if I met her, Sarah," Rachael said._

" _Her?"_

 _Rachael's eyes sparkled. She announced, "I just have a feeling!"_

 _She dismissed me from her tent with a dramatic wave of her hand, and I stepped out into the blinding light. The scenery faded from the brilliant peacocks of Rachael's world to sun-bleached pastels. The peach skirts of my dress brushed the grass as I walked, looking out at the powder-blue sky. It made the scarlet irises, glaring at me, seem all the more bright. My skin was pristine, unmarred by the web-like cracks of theirs. My body was full and unblemished. Their jealousy was tactile. I searched the field for any shadow to shrink into, but the sun touched every surface._

 _I was settling into the inevitability I would have to hunt tonight. Though the burn in my throat had not risen above the constant, dull pain, my schedule was severely limited by Jeremiah's rule. He rarely appeared from his tent but to make a decree and end a few lives. As I hunted, I would do what I could to find a crook or a menace, but the human world was not so full of horror that every vampire could sustain themselves on the scum. I had been forced to kill innocents, to feel their pain and suffering. When food was scarce and our hunting activities were particularly limited, I was forced to battle others of my kind to get to the Innocents. I would end not just one life, but many in the pursuit of satiation._

 _Joanna burst from the tree line, cutting trenches in the dirt as she skidded to a halt in front of me. It kicked up dust and I shot her a reproachful look as the grit settled against my skin. Her eyes were wild, burning with passion, and a wide grin played across her face. She was practically vibrating as she hissed my name._

" _Where have you been?" I asked, my voice at a normal volume, "I've been worried."_

 _I placed my hands on my hips and bent over her slightly shorter form, scolding her like the mother she never knew. Joanna shushed me and took my hand in hers, dragging me back to the log I had been perched on before Rachael's interruption. She dropped into a seated position as I lowered myself to rest on the wood. In a voice just audible over the breeze, she announced, "I have found a way for us to leave this place!"_

" _Hush!" I searched the nearby area for those who may seek to gain favor by reasons outside their own merit. One report to Jeremiah would spell horror for my sister and me. His promise to Rachael to spare my life had driven him to creative punishments. My joints ached with the memories of their detachment, and the scars of the various bites he had inflicted seared. I absentmindedly scratched at my skin. But no one had heard Joanna's declaration, and I let my gaze fall back to her bright grin._

" _I met a man," she began, leaning within an inch of me. Her breath was hot and damp in my ear. "A few men, actually. They're going to help us escape."_

 _We had managed to survive in this environment, but, if we could leave this place, perhaps we could live._

" _Why?" I asked sharply. "What motivation do a handful of strangers have to save us?"_

" _Well . . ." Joanna's eyes grew distant and the excited grin turned to a lazy, dreamy smile. I recognized it immediately: the first doe-eyed, stomach-knotting, brain-fogging pulses of love._

" _Oh, JoJo," I sighed, "what's his name?"_

" _Daniel," she all but squealed, "I think he's my mate, Sarah! He's kind and he's handsome. And he has a brother and a father. They're willing to take us out of here. They have a house, miles east of here in a town called Athens."_

" _Why?" I asked. I felt pangs in my heart. Pangs of discontent and doubt._

 _She blinked a few times and frowned. "Because he's my mate."_

" _No," I said, "I know. Why me? Why would they save me?"_

" _Because I love you, Sarah. And I'll never leave you behind," she said. Her expression softened. Her fingers traced the lines of my cheek as she pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You saved me. Every year, you convinced Rachael to give me more time. Now, let me save you."_

" _You'll get us both killed," I muttered. But I couldn't help the grin that poked dimples into my cheeks._

 _We took the next few minutes, the time before Joanna would be called to our commanders' bed-tent - this was unavoidable, to skip it would be to provoke instant suspicion - to plan our escape. I would wait for her in the far left of the field, a place where the flat grass jutted sharply into the surrounding woods. It would provide limited cover, but the most we could hope for in such an environment. We had few possessions, even fewer we cared to ferry. So, we would run, free from any burden but the clothes on our backs and the constant threat of capture and execution._

" _Joanna!" It was Rachael's voice that called my sister to task. This was a blessing. Even at her worst, Rachael was a lamb to Jeremiah's lion._

" _Good luck," I breathed, as Joanna walked toward the waiting tent. I walked to our meeting place._

 _Instead of agonizing over ever subtle movement of the canvas walls of Rachael's tent, I focused on a much more visceral fight: the two male newborns just a few dozen yards to my left. One, with coarse curls and dark skin, was shoved from behind by a much smaller man. The shorter man's hair, red and wavy as it hung around his ears, came to the black man's chest. He wheeled to face his opponent and I recognized him as Jean-Paul. I had sparred with him the day previous and had a nasty bite on my wrist to show for it._

 _For a moment, both men froze. Their instincts had carried them this far, but they were untrained, unsure how to proceed. Jean-Paul swung a claw towards the redhead's face. The move was slow, almost tentative, the same hesitance that afforded me an advantage when we spared. The redhead moved quickly, beating Jean-Paul's hand by a mile. His fist connected with John-Paul's lower jaw in a fierce uppercut, sending him to the horizon. He landed close to me; the cloud of dust he kicked up drifted into my hair and skirts. His head cracked the ground and he stilled, but only for a moment before he was on his feet again. He shook his head like a dog, his gaze wild and unfocused._

 _The glare landed on me. His true opponent forgotten, he advanced. His eyes were intent on my neck. I glanced back towards the tree line, but I couldn't yet breech it. If I was seen, Jeremiah would have my head, or leg, or wrist, or any other body part he could get ahold of. I wouldn't see it for weeks. My leg most likely, as it would provide the most poetic justice for running away._

 _Jean-Paul was a foot from me, arm extended to swing. He was not hesitating this time. I barely ducked it. The breeze shot through my hair. I shoved my hands at his chest, knocking him back. The redhead had come behind him and they tumbled together. It distracted Jean-Paul enough to step away with little more than a growl. The two men shoved at each other, trading blows and scrapes and carving chunks from one another until Jean-Paul got the upper hand. He opened his mouth wide and latched his front teeth into the redhead's skull. In a long, choppy dragging motion, he sliced his mouth down the redhead's face, tearing away his forehead, his eyes. His nose flew from the immediate tussle, landing at my feet. I kicked it from me in disgust. My own face was burning, the tearing pain of muscle pulling from muscle and the sear of the venom._

 _The redhead's broken body fell. Though no one had taken a match to it, it was only a matter of time. With his body in so many pieces, there was no hope of reassembly._

 _Jean-Paul rounded on me, his vicious glare made all the more menacing by the chunks of white flesh still lodged in his teeth. I stepped back into a fighting stance._

 _I hissed, "I don't want to fight you. Just go."_

 _I truly didn't._

 _He roared._

 _I ducked his attack. Once. Twice. Dodging and weaving as his fists hurtled towards me. I landed a solid hit on his cheek and felt it crack._

 _From the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of mint and white. Joanna was sprinting to me. My eyes danced from my sister to the man in front of me. I didn't want to kill him, to have that on my conscious, but he would be a witness to our escape, a hinderance even. I jabbed his nose, knocking him back again._

 _Joanna was just feet from me. Jean-Paul was distracted. My shot was open._

" _Come on!" my sister said, blowing past me. I followed, just a step behind._

 _Jean-Paul advanced, but a lithe arm wrapped around his neck, the purple nail lacquer glinting in the sun. Caramel curls spilled over his neck as Rachael's teeth sank into his throat. His head tore from his neck, spraying iridescent purple venom. My eyes locked on Rachael's, searching them for betrayal. Her eyes were a dead, blank stare, but she gave me a curt nod. I turned to my sister._

 _Joanna and I ran through the woods, heading east. The sun warmed my shoulders and illuminated the forest floor through the canopy. Birds danced through the leaves and chirped happily. It was hard not to give in to the lightness of spirit coming from my sister. Her grin stretched across her face and her step was light. I told myself and told myself again these were strangers and we would be outnumbered. This was dangerous. But, in spite of myself, I felt hope._

" _Are we running all the way to Athens?" I asked, "Do you know where you're going?"_

" _No," she said, "I mean yes, I know where we're going. But it's not all the way to Athens. I ran into them while I was hunting. They're only twenty minutes away. We'll meet them and they'll take us the rest of the way."_

" _What were they doing away from Athens?" I asked. Joanna laughed lightly, "What was I doing outside of Atlanta?"_

 _She had a point._

 _We left the forest, exploding into a rural area of northeast Georgia. We were surrounded by farmland, the fields of new-growth cotton stretching for miles, candy green sprigs shooting from the ground. There was no house in sight, likely covered by the gently rolling hills. Our journey, and the inhuman skin it revealed, would go unseen._

 _There were cows grazing on an adjacent property, and, though my thirst was growing with the passing hours, the barnyard scent of their blood was repulsive. What manner of people could be found in Athens? I believed it was a college town, as I had heard talk of a university when hunting in the city. That would attract young, unattached men, who, living far from the prying eyes of their parents, may let their unscrupulous morals show. Where there were young men, there were prostitutes, and, where there were prostitutes, there were madams and pimps._

" _We're close," Joanna announced. I could feel the little, inevitable muscle aches that signaled the presence of others. Three distinct people: one with the bulk of his weight his left foot, straining his hip flexor; one with a healing crack in his shoulder; and the last had split his head. Those would be the two boys, knocking each other around like brother's do._

 _They came into view, prominent against the horizon and backlit by the sun. They seemed to glow. The two young men were clearly brothers, blood-bound, if I must guess. They had dark hair. Their skin, though stripped of hemoglobin by vampirism, was clearly russet. The man was older by the standards of our kind, well into middle age. There were creases next to his eyes and a thick, red-tinged beard covering his jaw. His eyes flicked from my sister to I, taking us in like I was them._

 _I pulled to a stop well clear of the men, close enough to speak but far enough to flee should the situation sour. The older man met my eyes, the corner of his lip twitching, and gave a slow nod. Approval._

 _Joanna didn't break stride, not sparing me a glance as she threw herself into the arms of the shorter of the men - this was not to discount his stature, as he towered over six feet. The man - Daniel - wrapped his arms around my sister and buried his face in her hair._

" _Hello, Love," he breathed. Hmm, 'love' . . . they had known the other for mere hours, but I had heard the pull of a mate was strong._

" _My name is John Augustine," the older man said. His voice was deep and full of gravel. "These are my sons: Daniel and Matthew."_

 _I said, "My name is Sarah Carter. I believe you've met my sister Joanna."_

" _Yes." He said curtly. His eyebrows knitted together as he scrutinized me. "You have a gift?"_

 _I flinched slightly, surprised. There was no physical component to my gift, no way he could simply look at me. My muscles grew tight and ready to spring._

" _Settle." His tone made it sound more like a gentle suggestion than a command, but I complied in spite of myself. My body relaxed. It wasn't the cause of a gift, just the influence of a strong presence._

 _Augustine continued, "I have a . . . well, it's more of a talent. I can tell if another vampire is gifted. May I ask?"_

" _Certainly," I replied politely, "Odynopathy. It's little more than a nuisance."_

" _Pain empathy? Can you manipulate pain in others?"_

" _No," I replied._

 _He smiled. "Perhaps one day. I can help you develop it. Please, come back to Athens with us. There is a room for you in our home. We'd be honored to have you."_

 _I had little choice. There was no returning to the place from which I had fled. Nothing short of God himself could quell Jeremiah's rage when he discovered our betrayal - let alone Rachael's attempts at persuasion. We were likely being tracked, even now. He would set his newborns against us. Their bodies would tumble after our scent like rockfall. When they caught us, we would be buried, and their thousands of teeth would sink into our flesh. I held my breath for that moment._

* * *

" _ **My heart, my heart, you're the moon and her shining light.  
**_ _ **Darkness and void of form, like you're keeping me alive.  
**_ _ **And I've been dreaming of poisonings from the venom of my enemies.  
**_ _ **Clever as the viper, dear, but gentle as a stampede of stones."**_


	4. Chapter 4 - Faded Yellow Ribbon

Peter and Charlotte's house was a small, ranch-style venture with two bedrooms: the master and a spare on permanent reserve for Jasper. They had space in the back for horses, stables even, but no animals to speak of on the property. Just wide expanses of tall grass. The two of them were waiting at the door, watching as Jasper and I made our way up the long, dirt drive. Peter was tall and lanky with silvery-blonde hair and a permanent shit-eating grin etched onto his face. Charlotte was petite in the extreme with kind eyes and a cool smile. They chatted back and forth. She laughed and bumped him with her hip. He flinched away like it hurt and feigned a grunt of pain.

They had an easy way about them, comfortable in themselves and comfortable in their relationship. Jasper was at ease as well, holding my hand gently and running the pad of his thumb along my skin. He pulled the truck to a stop and blurred around to help me out of the passenger's seat, not that I needed assistance but he was an unfailing gentleman. He twined his hand through mine. It was amazing, how perfectly my small hand fit into his. He smiled down at me and mouthed, "ready?"

I nodded. Jasper had sworn to me that they were amicable. His hand slipped from mine and wrapped around my waist, holding me to him as we took mirrored steps from the truck and to the front porch.

Peter strode down the stairs to meet us, grinning.

"Muh-ther fucker," he drawled, slamming his hand down on Jasper's shoulder. I tensed on reflex, the pain from Jasper's shoulder leaching into my own nerves. I quickly dulled it. He squeezed my hip and washed me in peace, silently reminding me these are his friends. Peter turned to me. "And who's this fine lady?"

Jasper grinned down at me, his expression warm with adoration.

"Be nice," Charlotte scolded Peter, appearing at his side. She cast a disapproving scowl at her husband and backhanding his arm, knocking him into Jasper, who shoved him back towards his wife. They all laughed.

When Charlotte turned to me, the harsh expression melted into a genuine, welcoming smile. The corners of my lips twitched.

"Fuckin' Hell, Woman," Peter said, rubbing his arm. It didn't hurt him. "I'm always nice."

"Hey, Brother," Jasper said. His accent was more prominent. "This is Sarah."

He ran his hand down the length of my hair, playing with the ends before ghosting down my back and across my hip. He moved languidly, like he wasn't having a conversation, like I was the only thing in the world to him. He said, "she's my mate."

"Aw!" Charlotte grinned. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Congratulations, Jasper!"

He hugged her back, briefly, before stepping away from the embrace, and from me, to talk to Peter. They exchanged some insults and a few loose punches, glancing blows that provided no real pain. Charlotte appeared in front of me, her smile had a shy note to it and she raised an eyebrow like she was asking permission. I grinned back at her and opened my arms, accepting her hug. It was brief, but nice, and the smile that crossed Jasper's face when he saw us was beautiful. It lit up his eyes.

Peter rammed his shoulder, taking advantage of the distraction.

"So," Peter said. His voice had quieted a bit, not as boisterous. "Back on human blood . . . Jasper?"

Jas's smile faltered, but only for a moment before it was back in place. His crimson eyes flicked from the ground back to his brother. I wished I was holding his hand, so his emotions could flow into me and I would know how those words had affected him. He said, "Nah. This was a one-off."

I joked, "I'm a bad influence."

It sounded half-hearted, even to my own ears. Jasper frowned at me disapprovingly and shook his head. He told me, without words, the same things he had told me in the car.

Jasper pulled Peter into a headlock. The smiles were back and the moment forgotten.

Charlotte wrapped an arm around my shoulders and turned me towards her open front door. She led me into her home.

"Come on, Honey," Charlotte said, shooting an affectionate glance at her husband. "Let's go inside. The boys can play."

"We're not children!" Peter protested. He sidestepped Jasper's punch.

Charlotte called over her shoulder, "then don't act like it!"

I followed her into the house. The walls were painted sage and the furniture - a couch and loveseat - was cream colored and inviting. The floor was redwood. They had a fire crackling on the far wall, nestled in a brick hearth and casting dancing lights around the room. The heat of the fire combined with the stifling Texas sun would have been too much for a human, but created a nice ambiance for a house full of the undead. There were pictures on the mantle. One had yellowed edges and looked to be from the twenties, judging by the fashion. Charlotte was in the middle of the photo, her hair cropped short and done-up in finger curls and a flashy headband. She was posing with a group of young women, all with the glassy-eyes and flushed cheeks of intoxication.

"Cute," I said, gesturing towards the photograph. Charlotte laughed, "I was, wasn't I."

"Come on," she continued, "I'll show you to y'all's room."

She lead me down a hallway and into the back bedroom. The walls were cream and the bedspread - a king size bed - was pale green with a floral pattern. There was a painting on the wall of wild horses, colored with shades of ochre. I ran my fingers along the frame, feeling the raw wood.

"It's lovely," I said.

"Thank you."

Jasper and Peter walked in, each encumbered by a bag. They dropped them at the foot of the bed and Jasper stepped back to my side, resting his hands on my waist. I leaned back into his chest. He dropped his lips to the crown of my head.

"I gotta show you somethin', Major," Peter drawled, "come on."

Jasper raised an eyebrow at his brother, and I raised an eyebrow at the nickname. Something about the title brought a heaviness to the room, and we followed after Peter as he lead us to the living room.

"Sit down," he said, running his hand through his hair. "I'll get it."

I sat on the couch and crossed my legs. Jasper stood with his hands clasped behind his back and his shoulder width apart, a perfect soldier's posture. But I wanted his hand in mine and his arm around my shoulders, so I tugged at his forearm and he yielded to me. He sat down and I threw my legs over the closest of his to me, cuddling against his side.

Peter handed Jasper a letter.

"We didn't see who left it. We were out huntin'," Peter said, "but it's not a scent we recognized. Perhaps you . . .?"

"They're a stranger to me as well," Jasper said, breathing in the paper. I sniffed it as well and shook my head. It was futile.

In thick, heavy-handed print, the letter was addressed to 'Maj. Jasper Whitlock'. There was no return address. As he moved the envelope, I could sense something shift inside. Through the sounds - scraping and metal clanging - and the shadows, I could tell that there were two objects tucked next to the letter. Jasper frowned as he shifted the envelope back and forth, feeling the weight of it. He was apprehensive and perplexed. I kissed his shoulder.

"There are very few who would use my correct surname and title," he mused, "even fewer who would prefer to write a letter than face me."

Peter and Charlotte exchanged glances. They had settle next to each other on the adjacent loveseat.

Jasper opened the letter and let the two objects fall into his hand, then deposited them into his jacket pocket without a glance. My focus was on the paper. The handwriting of the letter was distinctly different than that which had addressed the envelope. It was carefully-crafted cursive, the prose written in Spanish.

'Querido Jasper,

Ha pasado demasiado tiempo desde que nos hemos visto. . .'

'Dear Jasper,' I translated, 'It has been too long since we've seen each other . . .'

I scanned to the bottom of the page and my eyes fell on the loopy signature. Maria. It set my teeth on edge. Her blasè attitude was infuriating. Jasper slammed the letter facedown on the table and closed his eyes, though he had enough control to leave the table whole. He took a moment to quell his emotions before he continued reading. The letter went on to explain that she had never found a better second-in-command after he had left her. She was losing her territory and she wanted him back. The letter was peppered with terms of endearment and a mix of sickly-sweet promises and veiled threats.

'La licencia ha terminado, Cariño. Vuelve a mí.'

'The furlough is over, Darling,' she closed, 'come back to me.'

"Furlough?" Jasper scoffed, "is that what she's calling this?"

Feelings of disgust leaching into the air, he crushed the letter and threw it into the wastebasket.

As he moved, I heard the two pieces of metal clang together in his pocket. He fished them from his jacket, displaying them in his palm. One was a small gold locket, tarnished and broken-hinged. There were the remnants of a floral design on the front.

"I bought it for my little sister, Posie, with the first pay I received from the Confederate Army," Jasper said, examining the jewelry, "there was a picture of me in my uniform, but that was lost to the years. I retrieved the locket shortly after her death."

He had scarcely mentioned his little sister, but the few words he did speak of her were saturated with love.

The second item was a silver medal suspended from a faded yellow ribbon. Another momento from Jasper's human years. It could not have been bestowed by the Confederacy, as they struggled enough to provide basic pay and adequate ammunition.

"Commissioned by the Lieutenant," Jasper explained, "with the financial support of the residents of Houston."

It was originally a Mexican peso. The existing faces had been smoothed away and replaced with the words 'Texas Calvary' on one side and '1862' on the other.

Jasper scoffed, "If this was meant to be a peace offering, it's a weak one. Maria was only returning my own property to me."

Nevertheless, he tucked the two pieces safely away in his pocket.

 **A/N: Sorry if the Spanish sucks (ha! vampire puns). I'm working with elementary level classes and Google Translate. Also, Jasper's medal is fictional. The Confederacy never had enough money to give out medals, however, I did base the description and the story behind it off the Davis Guard medals, which were given to a group of Irish soldiers from Houston**


	5. Chapter 5 - Bearings

Peter and Charlotte had left us to hunt in nearby Amarillo with a promise that we would spar when they returned and a comment from Peter along the lines of 'don't break my house.' The snark had raised some eyebrows but the promise of sparring had set into motion a turbulence of memories. My earliest recollections of the term were brutal battles - venom-soaked affairs that had earned the majority of my scars. If you lost, you lost your life. The memories prickled up my arms, making the silver crescents that criss-crossed my skin more prominent. I shivered, rubbing my hands up and down my biceps as I tried to stifle the thought.

I could feel Jasper's eyes running over my body, the gentle analysis as he registered my posture, expression, and the timbre of my emotions. When he reached a conclusion, he pulled me into a hug, his strong arms holding me steady.

"I don't know what you're thinkin' about, Darlin'," he said. He ran his fingers though my hair. "But I promise I will never allow anything to happen to you. Ever. And nothing's gonna happen to me either, so don't worry about that."

"You can't know that," I murmured. There was no way he could predict the decisions our enemies could make, and, though his sister could, the subjectivity was enough to foster doubt.

"Of course I can," he scoffed, "have a little faith in me."

To doubt his prowess would be to doubt that the sun rises in the morning.

"I have faith in you," I said. I shoved his shoulder and smirked. "And in myself, by the way. I'm pretty damn good in a fight."

Grinning, he said, "I know you are."

I stifled my laugh in his chest and felt his shake with his own.

"She won't let you go this easily," I said, "she won't be satisfied with an unanswered letter."

"Maria?" he said. He spit the name like it was poison. "No. I imagine she won't. But I have no interest in her . . . conquest."

"Interesting choice of words," I muttered. The double entendre did not go unnoticed.

He gave me a wry smile. "No interest."

His smile morphed into a smirk and his eyes sparked. Suddenly, my back was flush to the wall and my legs were wrapped around his waist. His lips were on my neck, trailing warm kisses from my jaw to my collarbone. I let my head lull and my body push against him. His abs clenched as he rolled his hips against mine and we felt the perfect friction.

"How could I," he asked. His breath caressed my throat. "When I have a beautiful . . . "

His lips brushed my clavicle.

" . . . sweet . . ."

The sensitive skin behind my ear.

". . . intelligent . . ."

My lips - his on mine, molding against each other.

" . . . woman in my arms?" he said.

"Charming." I all-but moaned.

"Always."

Jasper carried me to the bedroom, our lips locked together and my hands dancing across his chest. Lust sparked - near tangible - where his overheated skin met mine. The green walls melted into creams and whites as we entered the heaven of our bedroom. His hands were roaming my body and his fingers were teasing the line where my body curved into the delicate flesh of my inner thigh.

"Fuck," I breathed.

He chuckled, low and throaty. "Naughty girl. I know you weren't raised to cuss like that."

He dropped me to my feet and sun me faster than my equilibrium could measure. I caught myself on the foot of the bed and Jasper grabbed my hips. My back created a graceful arch, pressing my butt into his crotch. I swayed my hips, feeling his dick harden. He inhaled sharply, moving his hands from my waist to the flesh of my ass. I was dripping wet and he laughed as he felt me shake with need. The sound was straining from his throat like his cock was straining to be free of his jeans. His emotions flooded into my body. His lust and desire. His joy and amusement. Feeling the emotional and physical needs of two at once, all the endorphins and impulses flooding my body, making it feel as though it would boil over. Sizzling with the heat as the moisture spilled over.

"You're perfect," Jasper muttered, placing a soft kiss on my shoulder. How nice to be told such sweet untruths.

"I know you don't believe me, Sarah." His lips met my shoulder again, and his weight pressed into me. "But you are perfect."

His teeth joined his lips on their journey down my back, the pressure and gentle scrapes just shy of breaking the skin.

o000o

Hours. We had spent hours in the throes of passion and now that the sun was cresting the sky and washing the room in a haze of soft pink, we were tangled together, blissfully spent and wholly relaxed. Jasper lounged on his back, and I was curled against his side, my arms thrown across his chest. As I heard the distant rumble of Peter and Charlotte's car, and I knew our sanctuary would be dismantled, I felt a pang of envy for the humans. They could close their doors and close their eyes, turn off their cellphones, and never be disturbed. The blessing of sleep.

"Hey, Jas," I whispered. His eyes were closed an his face peaceful. He looked almost asleep. I brushed the arch of my foot up and down his calf.

He kept his eyes closed. "Tell 'em to go away."

I laughed and kissed his cheek. Though every fiber of my being was screaming to stay in bed with my mate, I stood and dressed.

My mine was taken back over a century.

o000o

 ** _Athens, Georgia_**  
 ** _April 30, 1867_**

" _Come on, Jackass!" Matthew yelled, shoving his brother from behind as they sprinted to the clearing behind the house. They ducked and dodged through the rows of Southern Oak, pulling down clumps of Spanish moss and tossing them at each other._

" _Fight fair, boys," Augustine scolded, but there was a smile hiding underneath his russet beard. He was running next to me, and Joanna was steps ahead, trailing after Daniel. She was jubilant, and had been everyday that we had lived at the plantation. I was trepidatious. We had been been promised a training session, a fight with my new family - in-laws, I supposed, as Joanna and Daniel had been quick to marry._

" _Why?" Matthew called, "Newborns never do."_

" _Bit nippy, aren't they?" Augustine agreed. He had the slightest of Scottish accents. As we came to the clearing, the boy's shoving grew more intense until they traded blow for blow._

 _As my hesitation grew to fear - I remembered bite after bite under Jeremiah's rule - Augustine said, "You'll spar with me. Or your sister, if that makes you more comfortable?"_

" _No," I said, "I'm fine."_

 _He gave me an appraising look before his laugh lines deepened and the corners of his mouth raised. "Of course."_

 _Augustine took a few steps from me and squared his shoulders. His feet were shoulder-width apart and his muscles were tensed to spring. He nodded to me, a clear question of my readiness and I stepped back into my own fighting stance. My training under the Atlanta Company had been somewhat lax, so my posture was something of my own invention. I watched Rachael and Jeremiah, amongst the other officers. Even now, I was tweaking it, mimicking the torque of Augustine's torso._

 _I nodded once, curtly, and bit my lip. I was ready. Augustine swung at me and I dodged. He had advanced a step. I had retreated the same. He swung again. I ducked to the side, dancing by him. He whipped around to face me._

" _Well done," he said._

" _Thank you," I said, politely. I was watching his shoulders, looking for the twitch that would give away his move. He chuckled at me, his ever-appraising eyes taking in every detail, and I used his distraction to swipe at him. He ducked, hand jolting out and knocking me backwards. I stumbled over my heeled boots, and wished I had forgone the fashions of the day in favor of bare feet. As I regained my balance, Augustine had caught me, his teeth bared and an inch from my neck. My breath caught. If I had a beating heart, it would be racing. I tensed, expecting the pain of foreign venom or the tearing of a vulnerable limb. But Augustine merely stepped away from me. He did not see the need to hurt me, his point was made and he was not a cruel man. This was beginning to dawn on me, and I let my breath escape._

" _That was very good," Augustine said, "you're still relatively young, so I'd expect you to be easily distracted."_

 _I frowned._

" _The boots," he explained, "physically, you weren't very encumbered, but you let your mind wander. Just for a second, but it happened."_

" _I understand," I said. I had cursed myself for wearing them, and that had given him the advantage._

" _Good." He smiled. "One additional thing. You were anxious coming into it."_

 _He hesitated for a moment, letting his words sink in and my reaction play across my face._

" _I hope you know that is unwarranted," Augustine said, "you won't be harmed here. However, in regards to the anxiety, you should still your mind before entering a fight. Distraction is not your friend."_

" _How?" I asked. I had tried to force the nerves deep inside, to hide them and not let their poison fog cloud my brain, but the gaseous emotion had always filled my body - chilling my heart, freezing my muscles, and slowing my reaction time._

" _What is in front of you?" Augustine said._

 _I blinked a couple of times. "Come again?"_

" _Right now," he said, "what do you see in front of you?"_

" _You?" I said. My statement rang of a question._

 _Augustine nodded. "And behind you?"_

 _I began to turn my head, but he raised a hand to stop me. He said, "without looking."_

" _Joanna."_

 _Joanna looking just as confused as I felt. The boys were sparring happily to my left, yards away and seemingly oblivious to our little scene. To my right was nothing but trees, and, somewhere behind the wall of flora, the house._

" _And what is above and below you?"_

" _The sky? And dirt?" I said._

" _Good," Augustine replied, "think through those things before you step into a fight. It should calm you. Call it getting your bearings."_

 _Augustine before me, Joanna behind me, the sky above me, and dirt below me._

" _Hey, Little Sister!" Matthew called. He ran a hand though his dark curls, pushing the dirt from them, "You're pretty good. Wanna go a few rounds with me?"_


	6. Chapter 6 - Macbeth's Folly

' _Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day.'_

Macbeth itself was beginning to bore me as I knew the scenes before my eyes could find them on the page. We - Jasper and I, Peter and Charlotte - had passed the last week in placidity. Jasper and I had hunted, without incident as coyote were plentiful and the ranch was lightyears from any human settlement. Our eyes had tempered to an ochre. That night, I had caught Jasper examining them in the bathroom mirror. He was not a vain man, so I inquired about this. He told me that this color - on the hazel side of brown - was close to the color his eyes had been in his human years. I kissed his cheek and told him my eyes had been blue. I felt his wave of melancholy, but I didn't know what he wanted from me. Sentimental as I may be, we were no longer human, and that life would never return. He told me he wished he could have known me then, and I understood.

Over the course of the week, the four of us had taken to playing cards - poker, usually, but we would sometimes venture into a game of gin rummy. We played a few rounds, and, with each one, the boys grew more and more raucous, hurling taunts, and, occasionally, cards at the other. Jasper was analytical, carefully monitoring the faces of his opponents, likely their emotions as well, and placing his bets accordingly. Peter started the night much like Jasper, surveying the group and weighing every option, but, as the sun sank lower in the sky, he grew impatient, shoving his chips forward in stacks at every round. I played cautiously, folding more often than not and only engaging when I was sure I would win. Charlotte couldn't care less about the outcome of the game and was glad when it ended.

At some point during our sojourn, Peter had taken to calling me 'Little Bit'. I protested, insisting that 5'4" is by no means tiny. He merely told me I looked tiny to him and shot me a grin. So, to Peter, Jasper and I became 'Jazz' and 'Little Bit'. I took note of the difference in pronunciation in the way that Peter and I shortened Jasper's name and analyzed it _ad nauseum_. Peter and Charlotte pronounced the nickname with a hard consonant, where as I softened the sound to say 'Jas'. The difference between love and friendship? It had crossed my mind that this was a product of the time in Jasper's life during which we had met him. Those years ago, when he had first come to know them, was a man hardened by war. When he had met me, he had not been soft, per se, but certainly less inclined to violence. But these were just musings.

As the sun began to set on our seventh day, Peter and Charlotte prepared to go hunt. It was a standing appointment. A date. And an excuse to leave Jasper and I to our own fulfillment, as we left them to theirs.

The air was thick with the scent of an alien vampire, the same perfume of bush sage that had covered Maria's letter. We stiffened.

"Major?" Peter asked sharply. His arm curled tightly around Charlotte's waist. Jasper had stepped within a breath of me, his arm slightly extended towards me and his fingers twitching. I held still awaiting Jasper's order, ignoring the ache in my body that told me to melt against him.

"Carry on." Jasper was pumping waves of calm into our atmosphere. I felt my muscles disengage, loosening until I was unsteady on my feet. Only then did Jasper pull me to his side. Peter and Charlotte had relaxed slightly but remained tensed enough to spring into a sudden battle.

"But Maj - "

Jasper held up his hand, cutting Charlotte off. With a meaningful look, his message was clear. Act normal. Don't let them know what we know. Peter nodded sharply and turned to leave, walking Charlotte to their truck. she looked back at us, concern sparkling in her crimson eyes, but a sense of duty kept her moving forward. As they drove, I breathed in the complexities of this foreign vampire. His scent was herbaceous and sharp with distinctly sweet notes, indicative of Mexican bush sage. This was a plant that crept occasionally into Texas, but primarily decorated coastlines South of the Border. The scent was fresh, but distant, only coming to us when the breeze happened to blow.

"He's standing upwind of us," Jasper scoffed, only for my ears, "downright incompetent. No wonder Maria's losing territory."

I smirked. "Shall we catch him off guard?"

"No," Jasper said, "We'll wait for him to come to us."

He paused for a moment, enough time for my focus to shift to the scent and recognize that it had drawn closer. Close enough to hear every syllable we spoke.

"Talk to me, Darlin'," Jasper asked. He had sensed the foreign vampire's approach as well and was asking me to keep up the ruse.

"About what?" I asked.

He shrugged, "something trivial. You lived over a century before you met me. Certainly, there is something you haven't shared?"

The newcomer was close enough to taste. We both paused, waiting, but the vampire stilled again. It was as though the Jaws theme was playing, creating a twisted sense of dramatic irony.

"We played a lot of games," I said, "invented some, like Manhunt."

The saccharine scent burned my throat, and my muscles tensed in preparation for an attack.

"Matthew made up a game where one of us would throw things off a water tower and the rest of us would catch them. Whoever caught the most would win."

My voice was strained by tension.

Jasper laughed stiffly. "I think I've seen that on TV before."

"I'm sure you have," I said, "but Matt swears he invented it."

"How adorable," a voice called from the shadows. It was a high tenor steeped in a Mexican accent. As the man approached, I took in his features and assessed his stature and the density of his scars. He was tall and lanky, with equally slim features. His skin would have been gold in life but had drained to the color of aged ivory. His scars were of relatively light pattern - he had lived years, certainly not decades - and were particularly thick around his throat. This was indicative of a number of narrowly won fights. For Jasper and me, the crescents were thickest on our arms.

"What is your name?" Jasper called. He had broken his grip on me and stepped slightly forward. While giving me space to fight, he had shown his rank and offered me subtle protection.

"What is her name . . . Jasper?" The man painted a grin on his face and inclined his head towards me. Jasper was unfazed.

"You aren't here for her," Jasper said calmly, "what is your name?"

He unleashed the full weight of his gift on the man. Trust.

"Rodriguez," the man said.

The trust evaporated.

"I've come to collect you," Rodriguez said. He was standing tall and proud, his shoulders back and hands clasped behind his back. But it looked like a facade - a cardboard cutout of a man instead of the corporeal form.

Jasper raised an eyebrow at him. Collect him? Please.

Rodriguez faltered. ". . . for Maria?"

"Oh, I understand," Jasper said, "you run errands for her?"

"I -" Though Rodriguez's first instinct was indignation, he had no sufficient retort. He was, at that moment, running an errand. "I am not an errand boy. I am her second-in-command."

"So, you were sent to find your own replacement?" Jasper asked. Rodriguez snarled, his lips pulled back like a feral dog until his canines glinted in the sun, awash with iridescent venom. "I am not - "

"You are," Jasper interrupted, "think about it. If you were enough for her, why did she send for me? Take advantage of this. Leave Maria. Find a better life for yourself."

Rodriguez practically shook with anger. "We have power. We are feared! Why would I give that up? To go vegan and fuck some blonde slut?"

That was the first crack in Jasper's calm demeanor. His lip curled back and a low growl rumbled his chest. I took a step towards Jasper, hugging my body to his side, edging his nerves back down. Rodriguez smirked. "Not so steady after all. Out of practice?"

"Leave," Jasper growled, "Tell Maria I am not interested."

"I am afraid," Rodriguez's fists clenched, "I was told to get you there by whatever means necessary. I can't hurt you. But her . . ."

I jumped back just as he lunged, his stone fingers scraping my arm. I shoved him back. He swiped at me and his fingers locked in my hair. My head jerked back and I felt the pain of a crack forming in my neck. Sharp. Brilliant.

My hand fumbled with his, trying to pry him from my braid. A roar ripped from Jasper chest and he snapped Rodriguez's wrist from his arm. As Jasper's fists flew into his face, again and again, I pried the hand away. It had lost force, but the grip was still strong enough to rip my hair from it's follicle. I launched it across the field.

I spit in my hand and rubbed it along the fissure in my throat, sealing the flesh together with my venom.

Rodriguez jerked his head to the side, slicing his teeth through Jasper's arm. The venom burned through his veins, and I took short, quick steps to his side, my arm outstretched.

"Get a lighter, Sarah," Jasper gritted out. Just before I could touch him. He said, "I'm fine. Get a lighter."

I blurred into the house, rifling through drawers until a flash of silver caught my eye. I ran back to Jasper.

Rodriguez's face was a mess of shattered rock of oozing lavender venom. Overkill. His head could have been loose from his body. Looking over the scene: Rodriguez, battered and incapacitated, underneath Jasper, who seemed hellbent on pulverizing his opponent. Rodriguez had touched me, hurt me. I could feel the fury pouring from my mate.

His wrist was throbbing.

"Jas," I called, tossing him the lighter. He flicked it on and dropped it on the corpse.

Dark purple plumes of smoke, the color of grape candy, filled the air, carrying a sickly-sweet smell that burned my nose. I held the last chunk of marble in my hands: the severed hand, with fingers still twitching. This was all that remained of Rodriguez. The rest was already on the pyre, singeing and crumbling in the flames like pieces of coal. I tossed my piece in, taking a moment to watch it turn from alabaster to ebony, spanning every shade between.


	7. Chapter 7 - Conflation

The burn of the pyre was starting to fade in my mind and in my body as Rodriguez turned to ash, but, in the centuries of my existence, there was no bout of odynokinesis that had come close to replicating the searing in my arm. Jasper's pain was more visceral to me than if I had sustained the bite myself, worsened by the fact that he was keeping me at arms length. My fingers twitched at my side, longing to touch and soothe him.

"Jasper," I said, "can I please - "

"I'm fine, Sarah," Jasper snapped. I could feel the anger leaching from him, thickening the already tense air. It fed my despair.

"No, you're in pain," I argued, "let me help."

"I can deal with pain," he said, "we need to figure out what we're going to do."

Jasper's anger had ticked higher, tinged with annoyance. His pain still burned my arm, spreading through dead veins as the venom pulsed closer to my heart. His heart.

"Maria won't leave us alone," Jasper said. He paused for a year, or a month, or a moment. His golden eyes bored into mine, waiting, expectant, impatient. I stared back at him, an eyebrow raised, waiting for him to finish the thought. He waited for me to put it together. The fire was creeping up my arm and into my brain, fogging my thoughts until they were indistinguishable from a dull hum.

"And?" I said.

Annoyance, pain, anger, sadness. My emotions had grown erratic. I wasn't sure what was mine and what was Jasper's.

"And," he said, "the four of us can't go against a Newborn army. That's suicide."

"So," I grumbled, "call your family."

"Call yours," he shot back.

Betrayal. That emotion originated with me. It was sharper, more real. Then it was amplified. The left side of my body burned like fire.

"No."

"My family is not experienced with Newborns," Jasper gritted, "yours is. They. Will. Help. Us."

"They won't!" I argued, "They left me!"

"They left you a note," he said. I could hear emotions bubbling deep in his chest. His voice was almost a growl. "You're being unreasonable. Stubborn."

I took a step back from him. The fire had muscled its way from the bite on his arm into his heart, shooting through his arteries and poisoning every fiber. My whole body was on fire.

Anger spit from me like coals on a fire. I'm sure he felt it.

"I'm going hunting," I said, turning on my heel. "Alone."

"Fine." Jasper stalked back towards the house and I ran out through the plains.

The sun was at its height. Sunlight acid-washed the fields and fragmented on my crystal skin. I could only hope no humans would pass by. The anger and hurt I had been feeling morphed - like many emotions, for a vampire, do - into thirst. And I had another reason to hope that no humans paths would cross mine. As the air boiled with heat and humidity, I needed to sink my teeth into something. The first thing I came across, be it human, coyote, or scorpion.

For miles, there was nothing but dust and grass, then the hot fetor of cow pastures warmed my nose, carrying with it the sweet lilt of blood. Cow's blood - the barnyard taste would settle in the back of my throat - but it would satiate me. And I had no choice. My body was moving without permission: blurring to the beast, buring it's flesh between my teeth. Accepting the blood into my body.

As I had run from Jasper, forcing distance between us, the pain of his injuries had subsided and the burn had faded from my body. As my thirst was satiated, it faded from my throat. The pain that lingered was strong: a tight vice around my heart, pulling me back home.

I loved Jasper, longed to be close to him. Day to day life seemed to fit us together like two pieces of a puzzle. But there were times, times like these, where we would fall away from each other -- or perhaps were pushed. By circumstances, or, more accurately, by the dialectical tensions and occasional amalgamation of the physical and the emotional. We were more open to each other, felt the impact of the other's gift more strongly than any other.

My mind was clear. Pain and anger conflated like pleasure and lust. Like thirst and desire.

It took two minutes to get back to the ranch. Half a second to wrap my arms around Jasper's neck.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in my ear. His strong arms were tight around me. "I understand why you're reluctant to contact your family. I'm sorry for pushing you."

I nodded against his t-shirt, feeling his lips press into my hair. I said, "I felt your pain and I was upset and . . ."

"Our gifts don't mix well," Jasper stated. He scoffed. "Or they mix too well."

"Yes," I said. He understood. "We have to deal with this. Really deal with it."

"It's why we . . . slipped," Jasper said. He ran his hand over his hair, washed it down his face. "It's also why we're so close. Why sex is so good."

"I'm sure it's not the only reason sex is good," I teased, catching his eye before running my gaze up and down his body. The charming smile flicked back to his face.

"Come on, Darlin'," he said, "focus."

I grinned. The tension had broken and we settled into our comfortable routine: sitting on the porch, hand in hand, talking about whatever subject happened to cross our mind, though this day's talks were markedly more focused than the philosophical tangents and political debates we usually sparked.

"I don't know how to reconcile it," Jasper admitted. "I don't want to close myself off from you, but I can't slip again. I can't kill another human. And I don't like us arguing, Darlin'. It doesn't feel right."

"No," I agreed, "It doesn't. I don't think I could shut out your pain, even if I wanted to."

"I understand," Jasper said, "I'm more in tune with you than I am with anyone else. When we first met, even. I needed you to be calm and happy to keep myself under control. It's gotten better though. I can recognize our emotions as two distinct things now. I felt like a Newborn again, not knowing how to control my gift."

"Yes!" I said, "I think it hurt me more than it hurt you when he bit you."

"It was barely a nick," he protested, holding his arm up to show me the new scar. He was correct, of course. Where the other marks were deep and distinct, jagged crescents, this was a tight line, the mark of a single incisor that barely scraped flesh. It was nothing.

"I wasn't all that angry with you," I added. I was speaking rapidly, moved by excitement. We felt close to something. "When you said I was being stubborn. You were right, I am. It's just, they were all I had for so long and the I . . . I didn't have them anymore. It hurt."

"I know, Baby," Jasper said. He pushed a strand of hair back from my face, letting his fingertips trace the curve of my cheek. "Don't worry about it. I'll call my family. I'm sure Emmett will be up for the challenge."

Jasper laughed. "He'll love it, actually."

He stood to walk into the house as he pulled out his phone, a semblance of privacy and more of a habit than anything.

I curled into the chair, tucking my legs underneath me as I listened to the phone call. The sound of dolphins came through the receiver.

"Slow down, Alice," Jasper said, "Take a breath."

I giggled.

The harsh high noon sun and calmed to a mild afternoon. The sky was cerulean and cloudless, kissing the scrubby desert horizon.

"I already saw you call," Alice chirped, "we've talked about it. And well, to quote Emmett -"

She dropped her voice in a poor imItation of Emmett's deep rumble.

"Alice and Edward have some school bullshit to do, but Rose and I got your back, Brother."

I could picture Jasper smiling, lighting up his face. Happiness filled the air around him and own smile across bloomed on my face. It drew me closer, inviting me in. I stood from the porch chair and walked inside. Jasper was in the bedroom, the door ajar.

"And you know Edward won't leave Bella," Alice finished.

"Carlisle and Esme?" Jasper asked. This was half hearted. He didn't want his mother fighting, and he knew she would not let Carlisle come alone.

I leaned against the wall outside the bedroom, soaking up his energy and doing my best not to intrude. I wanted to wrap my arms around him.

"They'll come if you need them, of course," Alice said, "we all will. But since you aren't sure, right?"

"Right," Jasper said, "I'm sure we haven't heard the last of Maria, but to actually march an army this far north would be . . . extreme. It would mean forfeiting all the territory she has managed to hold onto."

"I don't see her choosing to do that," Alice said, "I have to go take Bella shopping, now."

"Have to?" Jasper teased.

"Yes!" Alice said, "I have to. She has nothing to wear for her Birthday party tomorrow."

"Take it easy on her, Alice," Jasper said, "you know she doesn't like attention."

"Anyways!" Alice huffed, "I have to go. Rosalie and Emmett will leave after the party. They'll be there before sunrise two days from now."

"Thanks Alice," Jasper said, "Tell Bella happy birthday for us. I love you all."

"I love you, too," Alice said, "bye Jazz."

The phone clicked as she disconnected the call.

"Are you going to come in, Sarah?" Jasper called.

I did. "So, Emmett and Rosalie are coming down?"

"Yes," he said, "are you nervous about that?"

"No."

He raised an eyebrow at me. I was nervous, he could feel it. I felt that my apprehension was justified. Though Jasper and I had departed on good terms with his family, my relationship with them was borne of tension and strife. And the decision of my then-brother to murder their family. I was not expecting a warm reunion, especially from Rosalie. Her presence was icy, even to those in her family. Edward namely, and Bella. I could not imagine breaking that barrier. Though Jasper had assured me his family accepted our relationship.

"Don't worry," Jasper said, "about anything. We'll figure it out."


	8. Chapter 8 - Shrieking Raven

**Horrible Crowes - Blood Loss**

* * *

 ** _Athens, Georgia_ _May 10, 1875_**

 _I walked the southern and western perimeter of our territory, picking through the overgrown grass with Matthew and Joanna alongside. Augustine and Daniel had taken the north-easterly perimeter. There were a couple vampires - a mate-pair, both dark-haired and dark-skinned - who had crossed our territory the day previous, and Augustine wanted to make sure they had moved on._

 _The three of us did not take our patrol seriously. This couple wasn't a threat: two of them, unscarred and inexperienced, likely just past Newborn status. I walked with gathered skirts and eyes skyward. The sky was inky-purple and full of clouds. Matthew and Joanna were discussing the news of the day - reconstruction ending and a depression starting. Rumors of a new railroad. The politics of humans did not concern us, and the Volturi had taken the approach of salutary neglect. This was a far cry from the total annihilation of the first newborn wars. Augustine was inscenced. His wife had been caught up in Aro's wrath, an innocent victim. To see them become so apathetic was an insult._

 _The heady, woody scent - like bread or beer - faded along the northern border._

" _They've left," Matthew said, "should we return home?"_

 _Joanna shook her head. "No, let's enjoy the twilight. Perhaps we can play a game?"_

 _I grinned, excitement humming. "Like what?"_

 _A conspiracy of ravens shrieked in the distance and the wind began to whip. The clouds had darkened by a few shades. A storm was developing on the horizon._

" _Tag." Matthew was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his curls swaying around his face._

" _Tag?" I scoffed, "No."_

" _Yeah," Joanna giggled, a gleam forming in her eyes, "I want to play tag. And your it!"_

 _She punched my arm and ran, shrieking with mirth. Her skirts were bundled in her hands, exposing her laced, heeled boots as they punched holes in the peaty soil. I darted after her, watching her hair tumble out of the pinned updo. I threw my body to the side, crashing into my brother._

" _Tag!"_

 _Matt growled playfully and swiped at me as I danced around his touch. The sound of my laughter filled the air, swirling around him like a taunt. He pushed faster. I pulled my hat off and threw it at him, an I was apathetic when it fell into the mud. He had ducked it, but it did slow him down. Enough for him to abandon me and pursue Joanna._

 _We continued our game until the first drops of rain hit, then the three of us took off for the house. Our conversation had a lighter turn. Joanna and I discussed fashion while our brother mocked us, his high-voiced impressions falling well short of accurate. The storm was knocking leaves from trees and pulling lightly-rooted saplings from the ground. My hair hung in dripping, sticky blankets around my shoulders._

 _A mile from the house, the scent of orchids assaulted the senses._

" _Rachael," Joanna breathed._

 _The clouds were low in the sky, cracking thunder just above our heads. Lightning flashed in the distance. The three of us sprinted the last stretch until we burst through the front door._

 _It was an idyllic picture. Rachael, in her lovely purple skirts and impeccably cinched corset, sat in the parlor. She was twirling a china cup from the gold-trimmed tea set that decorated the center table. Augustine sat in dirty trousers and an uncombed beard, looking like the salt of the earth next to her gilded ways. Daniel stood behind our father. She turned towards us as we entered, her purple eyes bright._

" _Sarah, Love," Rachael purred, "you look afright."_

 _I blinked. Soaked and sans hat, her words could not be more accurate. It was the blasѐ attitude that caused my shock. I had deserted her army and fled this facsimile of a friendship._

 _After a quick glance between me and our guest, Augustine said, "I trust the nomads have left?"_

" _Yes, Sir," Matthew said. His back had straightened to a soldier's posture. The storm still raged outside. Long crashes of thunder and flashes of light beat at the walls._

" _Sarah," Augustine said, "Rachael has asked to speak with you."_

 _His expression told me he would ensure I had a choice. Joanna clutched at my hand, but it stayed loose - numb and unresponsive._

" _That is fine," I said, "should we take a walk?"_

 _A howl of wind punctuated my statement._

" _And ruin my hair? No, we can sit here. I won't be long," Rachael scoffed._

 _The walls felt like they were rushing towards me. I couldn't maintain the facade of breath. It must have shown on my face - through wide-blown eyes and slack jaw - as Matthew's lip curled and he took a step to defend me. Daniel blurred to Joanna's side - Joanna, who was just as frozen as fear._

" _Oh, relax, please," Rachael huffed, "I am not angry with you. Please sit."_

 _Reluctantly, I sat next to my father and Joanna next to me. Matthew and Daniel took positions behind us. The wall they made was stronger than the bricks that held us in._

" _I have left Jeremiah," she announced. Her manicure clicked across the cup. I felt each tap in my bones. "I left the Company."_

" _And?" I asked. The other, high heeled shoe, must drop._

" _And I'm leaving," she said. Her voice was breezy and serene. "Leaving Atlanta. Leaving Georgia."_

" _Where will you go?" I asked._

" _Paris? Marseille? Somewhere they speak French and dress well," she said, "It's a beautiful language, don't you agree?"_

" _Yes."_

 _A second passed. The room was tense._

" _Why are you telling me this?"_

 _A smile bloomed on her face. Painted lips delicately crafted the words, "I'd like to invite you. I think you would make an excellent traveling companion."_

" _No, thank you."_

 _My stomach had clenched._

" _Oh, please, My Doe," she said, "I would love to have you."_

 _I shook my head. "I don't want to leave my family."_

 _She huffed. "You've known me longer. And what is there for you here? Joanna has a mate. The rest have been together for over a century."_

 _Augustine stood abruptly. "It is time for you to leave."_

 _Rachael smiled stiffly. "I see I have overstayed my welcome. I will be going now."_

 _She blurred from the house, and my father turned to me. "We love you, Sarah."_

 _It was a rare moment of overt affection. I grinned at him._

" _You will always have a place in this family."_

 _Matthew chuckled, then made a lazy attempt to stifle it. "Group hug?"_

 _Augustine shook his head._

ooo00ooo

I told Jasper my story. We were tangled together under the sheets of our bed, taking advantage of whats was left of our truncated afternoon. He listened to my every word, stroking my hair and skin as he sent me love. I poked his arm.

"Tell me a story," I said.

Jasper said, "such as?"

"Anything," I said. My fingers trailed the definition of his tricep, running over the scars. "Some memory. Something I don't know."

ooo00ooo

 ** _Outside of Nuevo Laredo, Mexico_ _August 23, 1934_**

 _The camp was hot. Heat beating down, not from the sun, as it was well past midnight, but from the fire burning behind The rickety, soot–darkened farm. It was tinted purple, like everything else: Jasper's tent, his clothes, his skin. He stood back, watching the flames twist and writhe as the severed limbs did the same. Maria was relishing in it, pacing around the fire with what he would have once described as a lovely smile. Now, she looked like Lilith incarnate. The original temptress of man, sent to damn him as thoroughly and she could. No, just as thoroughly as he would allow. And Jasper would allow it no more._

 _When she ran her hand along his chest, he shook her off. When she pouted, he turned away. When she grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss, he gave up. Intoxicated by her scent, he followed her into the shared tent. There were no newborns in the camp, no one left. All had been culled. There was nothing to feign needing his attention. But there were no excuses he could make other than the lingering suspicion her allure was the product of some hidden gift._

 _When the act was done, Jasper re-dressed quickly and pressed himself into a chair on the opposite wall. Maria lounged nude, twisting her body for him to see, resist, and, ultimately, admire._

" _Do you think they survived?" she purred._

" _Who?" Jasper said. They had watched every last Newborn burn together._

" _Peter and," she paused, "the other one."_

" _Charlotte," Jasper said._

" _Yes," Maria said, "the two who … ran away."_

 _Jasper caught himself before he could flinch. Her words had felt like an accusation._

 _Maria continued, "it's dangerous out there, Mio Cariño. Nomads never make it long. It is a shame, though, about Peter. Not so much the girl, as she was never up to my standards. You and he were friends, no?"_

" _We were," Jasper said stiffly._

 _Maria smiled. The threats glistened on her lips like venom. "It is a shame, not only because we lost such talent, but, because, if they did cross our territory again, they would have to be killed. Provided, of course, they are not already dead."_

 _Jasper's jaw clenched on reflex, but there was no hope of subtlety. She had seen the muscle twitch. He felt her burst of amusement and witnessed her smirk deepen. How could he have ever loved her? Or thought, even for a moment, that she loved him?_

" _And I think," she continued, "that you would have to be the one to do it. Seems only fair, as they did slip away on your watch."_

 _Jasper looked past her. The taunt of her emotions was enough. He did not need to see it on her face._

" _If you were to, say, allow them to leave. Of course, you would never do such a thing, right,_ _Mio Cariño? But, if you were, I am afraid you would have to suffer the same fate."_

 _The idea was almost laughable. Maria killing Jasper. For all the army's she had organized, she was never a fighter herself. There was a reason she hid behind armies. A reason Jasper did all the training, and the reason she never fought alongside her Newborns. He could have killed her easily, when they were alone like this. He could have turned an army against her. They were most loyal to him. But he didn't. Some part of him, some long buried affection, would not allow it. Even now._

ooo00ooo

"I didn't know mates existed," Jasper said. He had moved me from the crook of his arm to sprawl across his chest as he cradled my body in a tight hug. "As a human, there was no girl who interested me. All I knew of love was that . . . mockery of a relationship."

I massaged the tension from his fingers — they had curled to fists.

* * *

" **And the moonlight I found would bow** **To her slender hand stretched out** **Fingers inside your heart and your mind** **You'll never get out of this (someday I'll see to this)"**


	9. Chapter 9 - Reunion

It was the time of day were the definition of night and day blurred and the sky was inky, not that a deficit of light affected us. We had gathered in the living room, around a television amplified far past a reasonable volume. At Peter's suggestion, we were watching a rerun of Fear Factor, a raucous program whose loud music and screaming guests fed the room with an electric energy. Jasper was so affected by this, so fidgety, that I was forced to sit a foot away on the couch, though he still grasped my hand in his. We were all completely engrossed as three people gagged and choked on a pint of cow's blood.

"Whatta bunch of pussies," Peter said. Charlotte sushed and swatted at him from her perch in the armchair. He sat on the floor at her feet, kicked back and barefoot. He said, "Cow blood sounds fucking disgusting, but I think I could manage it. What do you think, Lottie? Wanna enter?"

Jasper snorted. "Yeah, you take your red-eyed, sparkly ass on that show. See how fast the Volturi come for you."

He chucked a decorative pillow at Peter's head, which was easily caught and tossed back. As the green square spiralled through the room, I ducked it. Jasper snatched it from the air and set it back in its original place, yielding under the weight of Charlotte's glare. She was protective of these pillows, having sewn them herself.

"The prize is fifty thousand dollars," Peter said, "I'll take my fuckin' chances."

"You get fifty thousand?" Jasper scoffed, "That's absolutely worth getting your head ripped off."

"If I give you that much, can I decapitate you?" Peter said.

Sensing the boys ramping up, Charlotte had turned off the program and begun tamping down the breakables. A glass-based, modern-looking lamp was moved to the floor, tucked under the side table. I flowed suit, moving the one closest to me.

Jasper laughed, "finally realized bribery's the only way you'll ever beat me?"

I jumped out of the way just as Peter lunged, knocking the couch back ten feet amidst Charlotte's cries of 'not in the house'! Jas and Peter traded playful blows, muscling each other out the front door and off the porch. Charlotte and I followed, this show far more interesting than anything on TV. Entertaining, though minorly painful as every hit radiated through my nerves. Though I suspected, out of kindness to me, they were taking it easy on each other. Jasper certainly was. I caught the glances he shot in my direction and gave him a placid smile in return. Little pains were so common place, I hardly noticed them. And watching Jasper move was . . . enticing. There was something about the way his shirt stretched over his broad shoulders and his eyes flicked in the most calculating way while still sparkling with amusement. On a deeper level, it was watching him be entirely in his element. He was comfortable, confident in near every situation, but there was something about the absolute sureness of his movements I loved.

Charlotte and I settled into the porch chairs, watching our mates scrap. Peter had Jas pinned for half a second before he was flipped to the side and ended up with a foot on his chest.

"Done yet?" Jasper asked. His bright grin was gloating. Until Peter managed to kick him off balance.

"Hardly."

They continued to dig trenches in the ground, cutting through the grass as they knocked each other from one end of the property to the other.

Growing bored of it - and comfortable in the knowledge that Jasper would win - I turned to Charlotte. "It's not that bad actually. Cow's blood."

Charlotte's nose wrinkled. "Yuck. Why would you drink that?"

"Desperate times," I said, shrugging. "It's no worse than deer. Better actually. Fattier."

Barnyardish with a nausea-inducing aftertaste, but more satiating than the light, lean blood of a deer. And more volume, though I did regret cutting into the profit of whatever poor dairy farm I had stolen from. That may give deer the edge. No human would be harmed.

Peter snorted, "that's fucking disgusting, Little Bit. I'd expect that from Jazz, but you ain't been off human that long. You should have better taste."

'Better taste', like we were discussing fine wine. Jasper knocked his elbow into Peter's nose.

"Just saying," I joked, "if we're competing for fifty grand, I think I've got a leg up."

"Who said you're competing?" Peter called, dodging Jasper's fist and knocking them both to the ground. "The point was I get to easily beat some humans, and maybe find out what a cockroach tastes like."

He shot me a shit-eating grin.

"Now who's disgusting?" Jasper said.

I said, "if you're gonna break laws, why not do it thoroughly? Have an all-vampire edition."

There was the distant crunch of heavy tires on gravel and the rumble of a powerful engine. The silver Rubicon was skidding to a stop, fishtailing and kicking up hurricanes of dirt as it came down from speeds near a hundred miles per hour. Emmett was driving, Rosalie was on the passenger's side, and there was not an inch of space between them. Emmett's broad shoulders took up the majority of the cab.

Taking in Rosalie's icy expression, I quieted and glanced away. Her face was set in a scowl and her eyes dead ahead, focusing just past us. Emmett's gaze was locked on Jasper's back - Jas and Peter were still fighting, not one thought given to the approaching car.

"Take the wheel, Babe," Emmett whispered to his wife. He had a glint in his eye like an overgrown bear cub, itching to play.

Rosalie hissed, "what?"

Their conversation was too hushed for Peter and Jas to hear. They were still wholly engaged in their fight, not yet willing to yield.

Emmett slid out the window of the still-moving Jeep, crouching on the hood, eyes trained on the two sparring men. Rosalie ducked into the driver's seat, keeping pressure on the break. Emmett launched his boulder of a body off the car, twenty feet and straight into Jasper's back, sending them both crashing into Peter. All three men tumbled, a tangled mess of limbs.

Emmett whooped. "Hey, Little Brother! Sup, Peter."

"Hey, Man," Peter said, straightening and slapping the dust off.

"Little Brother?" Jasper said, "I'm older than you, Em. A lot older."

Emmett laughed, "and a lot shorter."

Jasper punched his brother's shoulder. "Hardly."

While Emmett diverted back to the Jeep to assist Rosalie, Jasper and Peter climbed the porch stairs. Charlotte stood and let Peter take her seat, plopping down in his lap as soon as he was settled. He wrapped his arms around her and they exchanged apprehensive looks. Jasper stood behind me, one hand stiff behind his back and the other resting on my shoulder. He took my tense, apprehensive body and filled it with love and peace.

Emmett grinned hugely as he walked the steps. "Hey-a Sarah. How are you?"

"Very well." I smiled too. Emmett could draw a grin from a lemon. "How are you?"

"Fan-fucking-tastic! I'm ready to kick some Newborn ass," he said.

Jasper laughed. It was subdued, as he understood the gravity that Emmett could not. Newborns are a stampede of stones. Jasper said, "We'll see."

"Hello, Rosalie," I said, turning my attention to the blonde woman on Emmett's arm. I turned my smile to her, and was pleased to find she was returning it. She said, "Hello, Sarah. It's nice to see you."

"Should we go inside?" Charlotte suggested, standing. We all followed, Peter holding the door for his Lottie, passing it to Jas, who passed it to Emmett. Rosalie and I remained steadfastly attached to our mates.

Rosalie's smile had been friendly, though hesitant, yet it only touched her eyes when she looked at Jasper, her beloved brother. Though I had suspected Jasper's influence, his gift hadn't filled the atmosphere, only flowed into me. Her kindness was of her own doing.

"Wanna play poker?" Peter said, already pulling cards out of a kitchen drawer.

"Lemme guess," Emmett said, "Texas hold 'em?"

He flashed a grin around the room and was met with indulgent chuckles. Texas hold 'em . . . we're in Texas . . . hilarious. Shrugging, he plopped down at the kitchen table. Jasper and Peter joined him, the later shuffling cards in and out of a bridge.

"No thank you," Rosalie said.

Charlotte scoffed, adding, "not a chance."

I was torn between the desire to be with my mate - not play poker, but just _be_ \- and some estrogen-fuelled desire for female companionship. The more chaste of my desires won out and I found myself sitting on the living room couch next to Charlotte, across from Rosalie. The seat seemed just as stiff as our backs - Rosalie and my's, Charlotte always seemed at ease. She talked smoothly and spiritedly with waving hands, showing the newcomer the living room and discussing their drive down and the weather. Rosalie was gracious and returned her small talk. The boys were settled immediately, joking and calling each other names.

Rosalie frowned, her delicate eyebrows folding. "Sarah?"

"Yes," I said. Her words had stirred some nerves in my stomach, but I felt a blanket of calm wrap around me. _Thank you, Jas._ I could almost feel him squeezing my hand.

"I don't," she paused, pursing her lips, "I know you think that I don't like you, but that isn't true."

"It's fine," I said, smiling softly and shaking my head. We could, like every other set of in laws, tolerate each other for the sake of our spouses. We didn't have to be friends.

"No, it's not," she said. Even her voice was poised. Too poised, like a delicate china mask. I wondered what she was like with Emmett. Was she happier, lighter like I was with Jasper? Perhaps she was simply more real.

Rosalie continued, "I love Jasper. I want the best for him."

I nodded. As did I.

"You make him happy," she said, "happier than I have ever seen him, and I am grateful for that."

I felt a swell of heart, both my own and another's - Jasper. He was pulsing the intense, warm feelings of familial love. Charlotte grinned widely at us, her eyes soft. Rosalie's thoughts of me - icy if I was taken as an individual - were warmed in the context of my relationship with Jas.

"Enough with the gushy crap," Peter called, "everyone loves each other, let's just move on."

The boys re-immersed in their card game, and Rosalie giggled a bit, uncomfortable, "I wanted to ask you something as well."

"Of course."

"I wanted to ask about your son," she said, eyes flickering around my face as if she expected my reaction to be combustive. I nodded, images of rosy, chubby cheeks and big blue eyes floating across my vision. A smile floated across my lips.

"Did you keep track of him? As he grew up?"

"Yes," I said. Pride and love had replaced all apprehension, "from a far, of course. He became a lawyer and had two children of his own: Colette and Remington. I kept track of them as well. Colette died young. In an automobile accident."

"I'm sorry." was the automatic reply.

"Yes," I said, "it was quite sad for him. He was never the same. And I'm afraid my line has never had much luck. Remington fathered twelve children, only three of whom lived to adulthood: Samuel, who never married; Collin, who, along with his wife and two daughters died in a house fire in 1947; and Savannah, who had a daughter named Veronica."

"Is she still alive?" Rosalie asked quietly, "Veronica?"

"No," I sighed, "cancer. When she was thirty two. No children. I told you my line had no luck."

By the end of it, Rosalie was holding my hand.


	10. Chapter 10 - Disingenuousness

I lay on the comforter in my and Jasper's room, watching the light dance on the bed, cast by the low-hanging white clouds. My bare feet - freshly pedicured, the mauve color courtesy of Rosalie's extensive polish collection - were propped in my mate's lap. He was pouring over the worn pages of a Civil War-era field manual. It's sunny cover was peeling. It had not been his original book, as that was lost to the years, but something he had purchased at an estate sale.

"You haven't memorized that yet?" I teased.

Jasper scoffed, "I've had it memorized since 1862."

"Since you were human?" I said. Only a portion of my attention was on our conversation as my focus was devoted to the tiny silver phone I was spinning in my hand. It wasn't the object itself that held me. Despite my youthful appearance, I did not grow up in the technology generation, and had not acquired any attachment to such devices. I was contemplating making a phone call, one that seemed necessary given the present situation - Maria's dark cloud almost blotted out the bright Texas sun - but painful, nonetheless.

In response to my question, Jasper nodded. "I suppose it's nostalgic."

He had anticipated my next inquiry. I was always asking 'why' and 'how', and peppering him with specific questions about his upbringing and experiences. I wanted to know every inch of my mate's soul.

"Maybe it's strange," Jasper mused, "to be nostalgic for a war. It was difficult. I lost friends but . . ."

I looked from my phone to admire his faraway expression. Smiling, I shook my head. "It's not strange. You're very accomplished. You should be proud of that."

He grinned at me.

Rosalie and Emmett had left to hunt very soon after arriving, both eager to see what this terrain had to offer. They had just returned, having found coyote by the smell of it. The living room couch protest as Emmett dropped his bulk onto it. The television chimed as it was turned on. Rosalie's footsteps, however, continued down the hall, the click of her heels only stopping when replaced by a quiet rap on our door.

Gingerly folding the book closed, Jasper walked to answer the knock. In pursuit of decorum, I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

Rosalie looked afright, with her hair slightly askew and sandy mud caked under her fingernails. I might have questioned her appearance - much too unkempt for a simple hunt - had it not been from the large, dusty handprint on her jeans, just peeking out at her hip.

"I'm supposed to talk to Sarah," Rosalie said. Quietly, as if she feared the response.

"Supposed to?" Jasper asked, his eyebrows raising.

"Yes," Rosalie sighed, "I think Alice will kill me if I don't. She was rather manic, insisting I share this as soon as possible. Said I didn't even have time to take a shower."

Rosalie looked decidedly annoyed by this, and she swiped at the dirt on her rear as if she had suddenly realized it was there.

"A vision," Jasper said, nodding to himself at the realization. I rose from the bed and joined my mate in the doorway, his arm falling easily around my waist.

"She was also rather cryptic, Sarah," Rosalie said, "I hope you understand what she was asking, because I certainly didn't."

Taking a deep, unnecessary breath, she continued, "she said that, whomever you were considering calling, it is of the utmost importance that you do so. Life and death, she said, though Alice does have a flair for the dramatic. However, she's usually right, so . . . if I were you, I'd make that call."

Jasper looked down at me with a contemplative frown. "Who were you going to call? Joanna?"

"No," I said carefully, plotting my words as I plotted my course. "Rachael."

Wine colored eyes, lined with mascara and dusted with gold, floated across my vision. This image was interrupted by flashes of glistening teeth, empty corpses, and searing pain.

"Who is that?" Rosalie huffed. She waited a beat. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry. It's just there is an impending battle and I'd rather be kept in the loop."

Nodding, I said, "of course. Rachael is the woman who turned me."

I was met with a frown. Rosalie said, "Weren't you turned to be part of an army? Why would Alice want you to call her?"

"Yes," Jasper nearly growled, "why would she ask you to do that?"

My fears and misgivings were seeping into him. I made a conscious effort to draw them back, to give him some relief and to keep these shared emotions from conflating with the shared pain Jasper was causing by digging his nails so tightly into his palm. But this was nearly impossible, especially when he wasn't also trying to fight our connection, so I settled for the second best option: taking his hand in mine and massaging out the tension and pain. He flashed me an apologetic look, drawing his gift inward.

"Rachael is . . . unique," I explained, "her gift is one thing, but what makes her particularly useful is her knack for having her nose in everybody's business."

I laughed tightly.

"She left the Atlanta Company shortly after I did. Now, she deals in information, which is to say she monitors the activities of each army and will sell this knowledge to the highest bidder. Shifting allegiances don't make her very popular, so she moves around frequently."

Jasper said, "that seems a valuable source. Do you think that she will be able to tell us Maria's movements?"

"It's very likely," I said. My hesitance had not lapsed. Though she may bring information, she would also bring memories, pain, and temptation. "She deals majority in the east, but I would be surprised if she didn't have contacts everywhere."

"Darlin'," Jasper said. His hand moved across my hip and over my back in soothing circles. "That is too valuable to ignore. You should call."

"Yes," I sighed. Opening the phone, I slowly poked out the digits from memory.

It was at this point that Rosalie excused herself, both to take a shower and to give me privacy. As she turned to leave, the dust that had been barely visible at her hip grew in number to seven, both partial and full handprints criss crossing her back and thighs and ass. I snickered and exchanged knowing looks with Jasper, grateful for the much-needed levity.

The phone was ringing, and the innocent sound was strangely ominous.

I fell back onto the bed. Jasper hovered like he wanted to climb into bed with me and offer comfort, but was unsure. I wanted him to mold his body against mine, to be grounded in his love and support, and I reached for him. Jasper took my hand in his and brushed lips against my knuckles. He sat and pulled me against him just as the phone clicked on.

"Bonjour!" Rachael greeted in a French accent and a manic tone, neither of which were her own. I quirked an eyebrow. "Rachael. Bonjour. Es-tu devenu français?"

"Oh, Sarah!" Rachael cooed, "How lovely! Of course I'm not French, but one can never be too careful. Enemies everywhere, you know! It's been too long since I've heard from you, Doe. How are you? I heard about all that trouble a few months ago . . . with your family. Oh, I'm so sorry, it must've been horrid."

Her words had a tone of biting disingenuity, the kind where the words leaving someone's mouth - however honey-coated they might be - were not their true feelings. Though, perhaps, this was the workings of my own imagination. I had been turned off by the plastic greeting, ad expected more of the like. I had no proof, after all, that her words were not the truth, and she had kept me alive more times than I could count. I leaned back into Jasper, craving the secure relationship. He hugged me tightly, and dropped a silent kiss on my shoulder.

"So, My Doe," Rachael cooed, "why I am I only hearing from you now, after sooo long? Unless you've called to chat?"

Hardly.

"No," I said, "I -"

"Oh, I feared as much," she huffed, "do go on. What is it you need from me?"

"I need information," I said slowly, "about the Mexican Army. Maria's army."

I could almost see the smile creeping across her face, knowing and enthused. She said, "Oh? So it's true? You and Jasper?"

I glanced back at my mate, my own scrambling emotions searching for something to latch to, but Jasper looked just as torn as I. I said, "yes."

Rachael clapped her hands, "how lovely! Congratulations."

"Thank you," I said stiffly. "What do you know about Maria?"

"Right to the point, huh?" she laughed, "I haven't heard much, actually. She's been quiet. Not wanting to advertise her failures, I suppose. Why? Does she want her boyfriend back?"

She did not realize just how close her teasing had come to reality. Jasper insisted Maria had no romantic interest in him, that she had never held any affections for him beyond what he could accomplish for her, but I had other suspicions. A catty urge to squash romantic rivals, maybe, but her interest in him was genuine, and that comprised a genuine threat.

"Something like that," I said, "so she hasn't moved her army?"

"Not to my knowledge," Rachael said, "however, I can't speak for her doings as an individual. It wouldn't rise enough suspicion for my contacts to take notice."

I sighed. There was some unknown threat. "Will you keep me updated? Please?"

"Of course," Rachael chirped, "and I won't tell anyone of this conversation. I will always keep my promise to you. Goodbye, My Doe."

"Goodbye. Thank you."

I hadn't yet turned to Jasper before we were interrupted.

"Major?" Peter shouted, "Major! We've gotta problem out here!"

Jasper turned his face skyward, breathing in the air. The growl rumbled through his chest, and I tried to gasp for the same scent, but nothing came to me. All I could smell was the gathering of vampires outside: Peter and Charlotte, Rosalie and Emmett. Infamiliarity bred ignorance. He jumped from the bed and ducked through the open window, swinging into the yard. I quickly followed.


	11. Chapter 11 - Maria

_**The Horrible Crowes - I Witnessed a Crime**_

Persecuted by the burning, blinding sun, Peter and Emmett stood guard over their mates. Rosalie clung to her husband's left hand, cowering against his huge frame. His jaw and fists were clenched. Charlotte didn't touch Peter, instead hovering on his right side, close enough to be acutely aware of his presence, but not so close that he would impede her movement should she need to defend herself. They faced the long expanse of driveway with rigid posture and hardened stares. The formation had a clear hole: the point at the end of the spear, left for Jasper. He was the natural leader - Major.

Maria moved in like a dark cloud. At least I assumed that this woman, with charcoal hair and eyes like embers, was the same woman who had caused My Love so much pain. Flanked by two tall male guards - the shorter of the two was also Hispanic, the other blonde and likely American - Maria was taking her time. It gave me opportunity to take her in. She was undoubtedly beautiful, even by vampire standards. Her strong features and full lips seemed to be molded from porcelain and carefully painted. She wore beautifully applied makeup, though it was both heavy and dark for my taste. Her burgundy lips glistened with venom and curled with a smirk.

Jasper and I glided - a vampire's walk, teeming with feigned casualness - to our place at the head of our friends. We watched Maria wearily. Jasper held me possessively, one hand on the small of my back and the other gripping my hip. As she drew closer, I wrapped my arms tight around his waist.

Languid, Maria tilted her head from side to side. Her eyes were wide, making the whites glisten in contrast with brilliant red, as she appraised us. Right to left, left to right. The smile never faltered.

They were drawing closer.

The blonde man was tense. His eyes skittered from Emmett's size to Jasper's scars.

Rosalie took a shaky step away from Emmett, forcing bravery onto her face. Her inexperience in battle was clear. I could only hope that she had internalized the lessons we had tried to teach. By the nervous glances Emmett was shooting in her direction, I knew he held the same prayer.

Maria's approach slowed, and her party stopped just ten yards from us.

"Mio Cariño," she cooed. Her voice was breathy and lilting.

' _My Darling'_? How dare she? My mate. Mine.

My thoughts were slipping away from the fullness and complexity of humanity. The short, possessive phrases were animalistic, the same fragmentation that occured when a vampire was inches from a pulsing artery. The threat to my mate-bond had triggered the same instincts. I forced my mind to be disciplined. Using Jasper's touch as a conduit, I concentrated on calming myself. Diplomacy, not death. That would be how this day ended.

I glanced sideways to Rosalie. We wouldn't all survive a fight.

Jasper responded icely, "I am not interested."

"I see," Maria said. Her eyes flicked from Jasper's face to mine. She regarded Peter and Charlotte briefly - though they glared back steadily, they were fearful - but did not spare Rosalie or Emmett a moment's thought.

"You did get my messages, no? she said, "the letter and the envoy? You didn't respond, Jasper. That was very rude."

He stared at her coldly.

"I assume he is dead?" She quelled a laugh with a bite of her lip. This was a woman of unmatched cruelty. Yet, somehow, this gesture - which showed her teeth and would ordinarily be considered a threat - was incredibly enticing. Her guards, who should be exchanging worried glances at her lack of compassion, only drew closer.

Jasper gave a curt nod. Yes, Rodriguez was dead.

Maria hummed, "I see you have other interests now."

She turned her lovely, painted smile to me. Jasper and I were wrapped around **each** other. There could be no doubt we were mates.

At her attention, I felt a pull from deep inside me. Worry spiked. It wasn't fear for myself, but a sudden epiphany. This tugging inside was something I had felt for so few people outside of my mate. Certainly never another woman. In that realization, Jasper's suspicions were confirmed. And he was vindicated. In some facets, at least.

Maria held a gift - the magnitude of which even she did not seem to be aware of - to attract others to her. It was powerful enough to defy sexual orientation, and strong enough to infiltrate a mate-bond. For a vampire without that manner of love, I imagined her draw would be irresistible.

She laughed. "If that is what is stopping you, I'm sure I could find a place for her as well. She does look experienced . . . capable . . ."

Her eyes were assaulting every inch of my flesh, tracing up and down my scarred arms and practiced muscles. I felt the sudden need to cover myself. Jasper growled and stepped in front of me. He hissed, "no."

"Not as a soldier, then?" Maria asked. The corner of her lip twitched and her gaze turned softer. "She is lovely. I can see why you would not want to risk losing her. Quite lovely, actually. We could find another use for her, no?"

Her tone sent a series of lewd images flashing through my mind. My first assumption was that she intended for me to be Jasper's concubine. The image that filled my mind was, on some level, desirable.

 _Jasper and I were having sex in a moonlit desert landscape. It was rough but pleasurable. My Love's eyes were red and full of misery. And I felt used._

Maria's words dashed again through my mind. ' _Quite lovely'. '_ I _could find . . ."_

The images turned repulsive.

 _Long, black hair spilling across Jasper's bare chest. Maria's hands on my waist, tugging me closer to their writhing forms_.

Disgust and anger were seeping from Jasper's every cell. He stepped even closer to me, completely eclipsing my body from Maria's sinful view. I was sure the next images my mind conjured were the first that had come to his.

 _I was clutching the scraps of my dress to my body, desperate as Newborns surrounded me. Their leering grins and straining erections made me feel even more naked than I was. I searched desperately for Jasper as I was shoved to my knees. I couldn't see him, but I could feel his fury and grief. I was certain he was somewhere just out of my sight, being restrained as he fought to protect me._

Jasper growled, "never."

Endearing as his protective instincts were, I couldn't stand not being able to see my enemy. I stepped back to Jasper's side, still hugging myself against him. I needed to touch him. To stake my claim on my mate.

Maria's cool smile had never faltered. Her two guards looked titillated at the suggestive turn the conversation had taken. The hispanic man was openly caressing her arm. A gesture that was not overtly erotic, and surely colored by fear. The blonde vampire was too shy to touch her. Nevertheless, he hovered close. Their display was disgusting.

"Maria," Jasper commanded, "there is nothing you can say or do that will make me agree to this. You know you are outnumbered, so leave. Before I make you."

I had never craved violence more than the way I needed to rip this woman's head from her body.

I knew she sensed the danger. How could she not? Our side - Peter and Charlotte, Rosalie and Emmett - had all taken a step forward. Her two men had snapped from their lustful state and straightened, squaring their shoulders to the enemy. Maria only smirked.

"Oh," she hummed, "I thought that might be an issue. I have some insurance."

Jasper frowned. He was no longer a step ahead. How could she insure her safety? When she had only brought two, and we had an army three times the size of theirs?

"Yes," Maria said. Her eye flicked playfully. "You see, I've done some research, Mio Cariño. About you."

"Research?" Jasper said. His tone was dry and uncaring. I, while not impressed, was certainly concerned. Her words had infinite interpretations.

"I hear you have a new sister?" Maria gushed, "A human sister?"

Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial level.

"If I do not return to Mexico before tomorrow morning, my second in command will place a phone call to the Volturi. And they will kill all of you."

Images of Bella swirled through my mind: a human more fragile than others, like a china doll. Something to be protected. While Peter and Charlotte were nonplussed, all who had met Bella felt the same as I. Shaking with rage, Emmett lurched towards Maria. His teeth were bared. Rosalie caught him just in time, wrapping both her arms around his large, flexed bicep. Peter gave him a sharp look and stern warning as Jasper pushed calm into the atmosphere. Emmett stilled, shaking so violently with the effort he seemed to vibrate.

Maria laughed.

"I think I will be staying as long as I please," she said, "and I will do whatever I'd like."

Jasper's growl vibrated through his chest. "Exactly what is it you would like to do?"

She said, "bring you back with me. It is my singular purpose."

"I hope you enjoy disappointment," Jasper said simply.

For the first time, her serene smile faltered. "I will tell you about disappointment. Disappointment is building the largest territory in The South, then having your best soldier suddenly acquire _morals_ and leave you. It is losing everything you have ever worked for while idiot after idiot decides that they are in love with you."

Her guards flinched.

Though he had never raised her voice or displayed her anger, the perfectly crafted facade had slipped.

It was only there for a flash of a moment: a spark in Jasper's eyes. Like a light flicking on. He flooded the homestead with powerful feelings of despair and hopelessness. All traces of happiness dropped from her face. She jerked backwards, doubled over by the pain of emotion. Jasper had found the hole in her armor. He was praying on her vulnerabilities by poking at and amplifying the emotions that depressed her already.

"Stop," she hissed. The grimace seemed permanently etched onto her face.

Jasper increased the weight, crushing her with new waves of betrayal and fear.

The toxic combination was near enough to bring me to my knees. I clung to Jasper's hand as though it were a lifeline. Behind the desperate emotions, I felt his love for me, and I felt his concern. Though Maria was beginning to cave, our side were affected as well. We wouldn't be able to stand this longer. Or physically stand. The sense of hopelessness was crippling.

Jasper glanced from Maria and her cronies to his family. Maria slumped against the hispanic man. The blonde was on his knees, bowed in desperate prayer. Charlotte and Peter had broken their fighting stances to wrap their arms around each other. Rosalie clung to Emmett. If she could cry, she would sob.

Maria was close to breaking, but I felt almost broken. Like I was a spider web of cracks that would fall apart at the slightest pressure.

Jasper pulled the emotions back in. The relief was instant, and we all sighed.

Maria smirked.

" _ **Everything she touched turned to stone or died eventually  
**_ _ **Or was never seen the same again  
**_ _ **Yeah, and this heart I had, You never sympathized  
**_ _ **And while you held my hand, I think I witnessed a crime"**_


	12. Chapter 12 - Vulnerable

Her lips twitched, teased, and enticed, but never fell from their place of victory.

"You are not going to wait me out, Maria," Jasper said. His words and tone were biting, and his posture straight and rigid. The only softness was a hand on the curve of my back, rubbing gently and soothing the emotional pain I had endured - _we_ had endured. It took a lot out of him as well. As though it was a physical fight, no vampire had emerged unscathed. Charlotte and Peter still clung to each other, forgoing any defensive posture or sense of self preservation. Those ideas had crumbled under the weight of hopelessness. Rosalie was shaking, venom misting her eyes. Her hand traced along her stomach, forever barren. Her own epitomization of despair.

With renewed venom, Jasper continued to berate Maria. "I know you aren't that dense. You can leave, or I will stand here forever and wait for you to leave. But I will never go with you."

Maria's guards shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to face another emotional onslaught and unable to see the benefit of staying. If one could credit Maria with anything, it would be her tenacity. The two exchanged glances between themselves. One's lips parted, as if to say something, but snapped closed again. They trusted that their position - a few steps back from Maria and splayed to either side - would protect their small betrayal from her knowledge. They were wrong. Her jaw tightened and her eyes froze over. From that second, they had outlived their usefulness. Their days - perhaps even minutes - were numbered.

The idea hit me just as Jasper's eyes flicked to mine. As our gazes met, the fractures of a plan clicked into place. I bolted to my left and Jasper dove to his right.

Maria had ceased to value the lives of her guards. She would not lift a finger to protect them. As we advanced, she retreated, stumbling back a few yards with eyes blown wide.

I ducked under the outstretched arm - it's fingers in claws - of the blond man. I pivoted to face his back. Before he could turn, my hands were closed on his throat, the skin cracking under my fingers as I dug my nails into his windpipe. He flailed in my grasp, trying to connect a punch. He only managed glancing blows. Pain ripped out of him and found its place in me. It was searing my own throat, but I pushed it from my mind.

Jasper had taken the other man's head from his body in one powerful right hook. It rolled through the dirt; the venom that sprayed from his gaping neck instantly shriveled every weed it touched and forever poisoning the ground.

Jasper shoved Maria, sending her body careening through the air. She twisted like a panther, with coal black hair flying, and managed to land on her feet.

When I threw the blond man from me, he crashed into the waiting arms of Peter and Charlotte. While she grabbed his hands, her husband gripped his shoulders and they yanked together. The screech of ripping stone assaulted our ears as the guard's arms fell from their sockets.

I crouched behind Jasper, ready to defend my mate if Maria were to attack. She pushed herself up to a crouch with a feral look in her eyes. Her mane was wild. But, like a threatened animal, she turned and ran, disappearing into the distant tree line.

I supposed I should feel relief as the last whips of her hair faded from view, and the unnatural feeling of attraction that had trailed her vanished. But I was consumed with a sense of inevitable destruction.

Peter gripped the guards hair, forcing his neck to hyperextend and exposing his bare throat. Sans arms, the man was a writhing snake as he fought to escape, hissing and spitting.

"Let him go," Jasper ordered. His voice, though ringing with authority, had a worn quality to it, like a whip with a frayed edge.

Peter balked. "What?"

"Let him go."

"Why?" Peter asked. In his shock, his grip had slackened. The guard wriggled his hair free of Peter's grasp, and threw his skull backwards. It landed with a sharp crack on Peter's nose, who flinched with the pain. Reflex moved his hands before his mind could catch up, letting the guard free. Peter swiped at him, but the guard managed to duck. He shoved Charlotte away as he scrambled to collect his severed arms. He sunk his teeth into the bicep of one, howling with the pain of his own venom and looking very much like a dog with a bone.

True to his word, Jasper let the guard flee past him. The rest of us took the cue, letting him evade us. He smeared venom onto the healing shoulder sockets as he desperately tried to reattach his arms.

My own shoulders ached, and I rubbed them absently.

Jasper was staring at the ground, a frown marring his handsome face. There was a chunk of white stone half-buried in the dirt that we had kicked up. It had splintered from the neck of the guard Jasper had punched. His body was crumpled at Jasper's feet and his head rested yards away, mouth gaping open and caked with dirt, eyes clouded over.

I tucked my hand into Jasper's and let his inner war pour into me. He felt guilty, able to see himself, I guessed, in the face of this dead guard. Or Peter. Or Charlotte. They had all been under Maria's spell once, barely escaping with their own lives. He also felt triumphant, the natural reaction to a victory in battle. And worried, as we all were. A battle won, but the war far from over.

Love poured from Jasper as well, pulsing with the phantom beats of his long-dead heart. I nuzzled closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. It was the best comfort I could manage.

"Hey," Emmett called. He had somehow wrestled his booming voice into a gentle offer. "Rose and I'll clean up, Bro. Go hunt or somethin'."

"Of course," Rosalie added, a frown - borne of concern this time, instead of her usual annoyance - crossed her lips.

"Don't need to hunt," Jasper muttered. He sighed heavily and stretched his neck, dropping his head from one shoulder to the other. He looked tired, like speaking was some great burden. He said, "I would like to be alone."

I wondered if his 'alone' included me. I did not want to leave his side, especially when he seemed so vulnerable. Vulnerable - a word I never thought could describe Jasper, but fit his subdued tone and volatile emotions. His afternoon had been full of tumultuous series of events, each bringing new horrors upon him and forcing him to do things he swore he wouldn't do. His family had been threatened. He had seen and spoken to Maria, ripping open old wounds. He had killed. It was a vampire and a threat, but a life nonetheless.

I held Jasper's hand loosely, not letting him go, never letting him go. But I gave him space to walk away if he needed privacy. His fingers tightened around mine, and I smiled. His 'alone' included me.

Jasper walked through through the yard silently and I trailed him, doing my best to push away the traces of pain that lingered in my neck and shoulders, and the sadness and frustration that accompanied them. I sent my mate my love and support. Tethered to him by our joined hands, I walked closer to him than a shadow. We entered the treeline and the shade muted the sparkle of our skin. It was a different location than the place Maria had entered, and her guard had scrambled after her, but headed in the same general direction.

"Jas?" I asked softly. His voice was flat as he said, "I want to make sure that she has left."

"Alright," I said. We fell back into silence, a silence that was suddenly ripped apart by the sound of tearing stone. I gasped, and my body jolted back towards the ranch, back toward Peter and Charlotte and Rosalie and Emmett. All of the friends we had left behind.

Jasper's hand gripped mine tightly, stopping me midstride. He hissed, "it came from out there."

He jerked his head towards the expanse of forest ahead.

Through his gritted teeth, he said, "she killed him."

I nodded, accepting his realization without question. I could smell the saccharine smoke and see it rising, the purple hue stark against the afternoon sky, high above the tree canopy.

A glance behind us revealed a second plume of candy-colored smoke. Emmett and Rose had burned our kill as well.

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed Jasper's cheek, letting my lips linger against his warm skin as I prayed he would forgive himself for what had happened today. The vampire he killed had threatened him, and he had threatened me, Jasper's mate. It would have defied every instinct for Jasper to leave him intact.

As I began to pull away, Jasper wrapped his arms around me. Comfortably pressed against his body, I ducked my head to fit into the crook of his neck. I mumbled an 'I love you' into his throat, and he whispered the same into my hair.

There was a sense of relief to him. The stress built in his shoulders had lessened. Whether this was from my presence - this was such a self-aggrandizing assumption to make and I almost scoffed at my own ego - or from the sheer fact that this confrontation was over.

"Are we going home now?" he whispered. I felt a pulse of tension in his jaw as it pressed against my cheek. I said, "not yet."

I sighed and nuzzled closer. Jasper lifted me from the ground and I wrapped my legs around his waist. We kissed, and I ran my hands along his shoulders. He caressed my back.

"We don't get enough alone time," Jasper sighed.

I could feel his strong arms supporting me and the warmth flowing between us. I leaned into the feelings of reassurance and safety. Yes, we certainly didn't get enough alone time. We rested like this for hours. I closed my eyes and meditated on our love, ensuring only emotions of peace would flow into Jasper. I could hear the light breeze as it ruffled the leaves above us, and the songs of birds, and my mate's steady breath.

With Jasper's sadness quelled, at least for the time being, my mind shoved forward the instincts I had been trying so hard to fight. Maria had tried to take my mate. My mate. Mine.

A low growl echoed in my chest and Jasper chuckled. "Oh, I was wondering when this would come up. I felt your jealousy earlier, Baby. There's no need for that. She's nothing to me. Less than nothing."

I barely heard him. That woman had threatened my mate-bond, and the need to reaffirm it was overwhelming. I kissed him roughly, gripping his hair and crushing his face to mine.

Jasper stroked my hair and turned his head. I moved my attack from his lips to his throat, kissing and sucking his skin.

"Listen to me, Darlin'," he said, a smile teasing the corners of his newly freed lips. "Nothing, absolutely nothing, will threaten our bond."

"Mine," I groaned. As my kisses moved further down his chest, his body began to respond. I gently sucked the skin below his navel and felt his erection grow, rock hard against my breasts. Jasper moaned, his hands knotting in my hair. I reached for his belt, my eyes intent on my target: the bulge in his jeans.

Jasper grabbed my face in his hands, turning my gaze to meet his. He insisted, "I'm yours."

Grinning, my lips found their way back to his stomach, and I tugged his belt loose.


	13. Chapter 13 - A Life and A Soul

"Let's go home, Darlin'," Jasper muttered. His words didn't carry much weight when held in contrast with his actions. We were wrapped in the warm blanket of springtime grass. I rested on my side and he curled his body around me, running warm hands over my stomach and up and down my thighs. He was nuzzling and kissing my bare shoulders and trailing his lips across my back. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to leave the sanctuary that we had created. I didn't want to be forced to face the threats of reality.

"Come on," he coaxed, whether it was me or himself he was trying to convince I didn't know. He pulled his touch from my skin, leaving the place where his fingers should have been feeling cold and vulnerable. I whimpered and grabbed his hand, moving it back to its rightful place. I was soothed instantly.

"Jasper," I said, "I want to stay here with you."

The alternative was to stare down the army. Not a literal army - though that may come - but the many threats that stalked us. Maria, the Volturi, even those small battles of contacting Rachael and the immanence of confronting my family.

"We can't, Baby," he purred in my ear. I turned towards him and buried my face in his chest. I said, "we can."

It wasn't true. I knew it. But it was a lovely dream.

"I love you," I whispered.

"Love you, too," he said. He stood up, pulling his boxers on before helping me to my feet. I stood there as he dressed, watching his skin disappear under the layers of clothes. First jeans: the wash was dark and the cut was form-fitting without being tight. They were classic-looking and sexy, and they suited him well. Then an undershirt and his light blue button up. He began to clasp the buttons, but I stepped closer and gently pushed his hands away. I let my fingers drag languidly over his torso as I moved from his jeans to his throat, slowly fastening each button. Jasper rested his hands on my waist, tracing circles with his thumb on my naked skin. One hand wandered down to my ass, giving it a quick squeeze as Jasper flashed a grin.

"Hey," I warned, taking a step back and straightening his collar, "don't start things you don't intend to finish."

"Oh, Darlin'," Jasper said huskily, "I do intend to finish."

My hands flashed instantly to his belt, and I lay kisses down the line of his jaw. I let lust fog my mind and rush through my body. _Yes!_

"Just not right now," Jasper said, stepping away from me with a smirk.

"Ugh!" I exclaimed, turning away from his smug expression. I snatched my panties from the ground and yanked them on. If it was his intention to leave me frustrated, then he could expect no love from me. At least until he soothed the fire he had set.

My shirt was just about to follow when I felt the material being gently pried from my fists.

"Don't be mad at me," Jasper teased. He kissed my cheek. "I just have my priorities straight."

As he lay kisses upon my unyielding frown, I fought my own muscles as they tried to match his smile. So charming . . . so hard to stay angry with. I let him nudge and caress my body into position as he pulled my shirt on. His touch lingered on my breasts and waist, and I relaxed into it. He knelt, and I smiled at his adorations as he kissed from my ankle to my hip, pulling my jeans on as he went. When he stood to his full height, kissing my lips once more, he announced we would really be heading back now.

I slipped on my shoes and Jasper did the same. Hand in hand, we walked back across the plain.

As we approached the house, Rosalie's voice rang out. She was irate and the conversation we heard was one sided. The other voice was muffled to the point of unintelligible by the cell phone that delivered it. Rosalie was trying to convince that other person to take Bella and flee the state, even the country. And they argued against their own best interest. Edward - I presumed this, no one else seemed so keen to argue with Rosalie - did not agree that taking Bella was the best solution.

"Pull your head out of your ass and listen to me!" Rosalie yelled. We had drawn just close enough to hear Edward's response. He said, "watch your language, Rosalie. There is no need for such vulgarity."

I raised an eyebrow at Jasper, and he shook his head. His expression was teeming with exasperation.

"They've been fighting like this for months," he explained, "but both of them are ignoring reality."

Edward, growing more incorrigible by the second, insisted, "we can simply leave her in Forks with her father! We will leave, and she will be safe from the Volturi. She'll have a normal life."

I gasped. Leaving your mate on a temporary base was a herculean feat, but to do it permanently? Edward didn't seem to comprehend the way that would destroy him, and that was if he could manage to go through with it. I nuzzled closer to Jasper. The bond between mates was much too strong for all of that.

"That's nonsense, Edward!" Rosalie yelled, "just take Bella and run. Your putting all of us at risk if you don't!"

Her words came out with a brutal edge I was sure she did not intend. ' _I don't care what happens to you,'_ she seemed to say, ' _as long as I don't die.'_

"That's exactly what I mean," Jasper said, "they're both being absurd. If Aro discovers that we have broken the most sacred law, he will kill us all. He will kill everyone who had knowledge of it."

His gaze unconsciously drifted to the kitchen window, where Peter and Emmett sat playing cards, and where Charlotte was tucked under her husband's arm and flipping through a magazine - his family, rendered vulnerable by these circumstances. And he gripped me tighter, forgoing holding my hand to wrap me in a full-bodied hug. My own thoughts had drifted far from this property to Dodge City, Kansas. My brother, his mate, and my beloved little sister were unaware of the danger they were in. Their knowledge - however passive - of Bella meant that they too would face Aro's wrath. If Maria decided to tell. If her source decided to tell.

It crossed my mind that we should simply appease Maria. Was it worth Jasper's life to torture his soul? Was it worth the lives of our families? I didn't know.

"They only have two choices," Jasper said. His voice was hard as stone. "They can kill Bella, or they can turn her."

Kill his mate? Let someone live who has killed his mate? No. There was only one option.

"Bella has to become a vampire," I said.

Jasper nodded.

Rosalie hissed. She had appeared in front of us, phone in hand. She must have come to offer the phone to Jasper, to get my mate to talk sense into Edward - at least sense in the way Rosalie saw it. Now, she looked as though she would rather shove the phone through Jasper's skull. My lip curled back in my own hiss of displeasure. It was an automatic response when one's mate was threatened. I had no desire to fight anyone, let alone someone I considered a friend.

Jasper held his hand out and Rosalie slammed the device into his waiting palm. He frowned at her, but said nothing.

"Edward?" Jasper asked, speaking into the phone.

"I don't want to hear about how we should kill my mate, Jasper," Edward spit.

"Not kill," Jasper said. He confronted these accusations with patience. "Change. If Bella is a vampire, then no laws have been broken."

Edward said, "that's the same thing! I won't risk her soul. It is worth more than my life."

Jasper grimaced, and I imagined it was with the desire to be there in person, to weasel into Edward's emotions and manufacture a more favorable bent. Pulling his charms into tone and word choice, Jasper said, "is her soul worth more than her life? Or Carlisle's life? Or Esme's? Or Alice's? Can you fathom how many of our family will die if you insist Bella stays human?"

"That's not fair!" Edward hissed, "I don't want any of you to die."

In that moment, I praised God that I was not seventeen eternal. Somehow, in those few short years to twenty, a person ages in long strides. Bella - naive in her own right - had the excuse of her time. She may be more mature than her contemporaries, but little was expected of a seventeen year old in these days. There's an expectation of parties and rebellion, and their greatest responsibility is school work or a part time job. I was married by seventeen, running a household and working full time in the hospital. My community expected nothing less. Jasper, at that age, was serving in the military and working his way towards becoming an officer. The money he made was sent back to his mother and sister, as he was their sole provider. Edward was young for his age, and did not have the excuse of his time. His maturity was the product of a life of privilege.

"But that is what will happen, Edward," Jasper implored, "you must see reason."

Edward snapped, "I will discuss it with Carlisle."

The phone disconnected with a sharp, electronic click. Carlisle was intelligent, and had his own storied past with the Volturi. Certainly he would understand the necessity of Bella's transformation.

"Jasper!" Rosalie snapped, "you cannot turn Bella into a monster."

My mate shrugged. "It's what she wants. It's what is best. I see no reason why she should not be turned."

Rosalie's hand rested on her stomach, and, with fire in her eyes, said, "she is giving up so much. She doesn't even understand."

A child. That was all Rosalie could imagine. I sympathized. My own son had been ripped from me by circumstance, though he had existed and I knew simple facts, I had never known him.

"Isn't that for her to decide?" I asked. And why should it not be? If it were her soul up for bargain, why would it not be her choice?

Rosalie huffed and stalked back to the house.


	14. Chapter 14 - Inevitable

**Go Tell Everybody - The Horrible Crowes**

* * *

I crouched on the lowest branch of a scrubby pine tree, though I longed to be higher up. My scent would be better hidden, my vantage point clearer, but West Texas had little to offer in the way of sturdy foliage. If I dared venture higher, or traverse outward on the limb, the tree would sag under my weight. So, I stretched my vision to its edge, taking in the grayscale landscape of this quiet night.

We were under orders - Jasper's orders - to hunt at an increased rate and keep our strength up. It was just as likely a Newborn would appear on the horizon as it was a coyote. Perhaps even more likely, as the myriad of vampire scents had saturated the woods, scaring off most potential meals. The biggest creature I had seen was a gray-tailed squirrel half out of its mind with rabies and foaming at the mouth. I prayed I would never fall so low that became an appealing meal.

"Hey, Tarzan!" Emmett boomed, and so went my last hope of a meal. He looked up at me with a smirk.

Surely my hunting methods were not so strange? They were certainly effective - most days, at least. They were a far cry from Emmett's own, whose best strategy seemed to be lunging at anything that moved. I was fairly certain that he and Jasper had been locked in a competition of who could find prey that fastest, or potentially who could take down the most. I had only heard the initial discussions before breaking off from the group to find my own sustenance. But that meant my mate could not be far.

"Hello, Emmett," I said.

I felt the branch creak and groan under protest of added weight, and Jasper dropped an arm around my shoulders.

"Have you had any luck?" he asked.

I shook my head and settled from a crouch to a seated position, crossing my legs and leaning into his chest.

"Emmett hasn't either," Jasper said. There was a glint in his eye, and Emmett whined in protest. "I would have gotten that wolf if you hadn't -"

"If I hadn't what?" Jasper teased, "gotten there first? I don't think that counts, Brother."

Emmett sent his foot sailing into the base of the tree, and a loud crack echoed through the woods. The tree collapsed underneath us, and I was hurtling towards the ground. I tucked my head and rolled to my feet, already dusting the pine needles from my clothes as I stood. Jasper landed in a lithe crouch and easily ducked Emmett's fist as it whistled just over his head. Jasper leapt forward, tackling his brother to the forest floor. He pinned him down, one hand splayed across his collar bone - it would be on his neck it this was any serious fight - and the other crushing his wrists to the ground.

"Save it for the Newborns," Jasper growled. He slapped Emmett's shoulder good naturedly and climbed off of him.

"Oh," Emmett grinned. He scrambled to his feet and cracked his knuckles. "I intend to."

I tucked myself under Jasper's arm just as a sweet floral appeared on the wind.

"Hey, Rosie," Emmett called into the ether - we could not see her yet. She had made the mistake of approaching from upwind of us, making her presence known much sooner than necessary. This was not a particularly egregious error among friends - we certainly posed no threat to her. However, I caught the flash of disappointment and fear that made its way through Jasper. Making this kind of mistake with any other group of vampires, even untrained Newborns, would spell certain death. It was one of the reasons Jasper was so hesitant to involve his family in this fight. All these self protective details were second nature to Jasper and I, and Peter and Charlotte. To the Cullens, it was a foreign language: able to be understood, but only after some thought. And the lags in action caused by thought were ample room for a Newborn to sneak in.

But Jasper had resigned to call Carlisle when we returned to the ranch. Our need for backup had become impossible to ignore.

Rosalie appeared at Emmett's side, tucking her hand into his. Her eyes were a light gold, clear evidence her hunt had been successful. By the scent, she had managed coyote.

"We should go back," Jasper said. Those were all the words we need, and we elapsed the rest of the run home in silence. Peter and Charlotte were waiting for us on the porch, their eyes a burning crimson. They had fed, though why shouldn't they? Humans, in their arrogance, did not heed the warnings their instincts gave them. They weren't like wild animals, who saw our skin and acknowledged our scent. They were easy to hunt.

I knew the types that Peter and Char frequented. They carried their own brand of morality, and wore it like a badge of honor. They targeted only criminals, and the worst of those they could find, murderers and rapists and the like. But I knew what they did not say, or what they chose not to think of: it's rare to happen upon a murderer.

"I'll call Carlisle," Jasper said, ducking into the house.

Emmett and Peter decided they would play some video game together, and took off towards the living room.

I dropped onto one of the porch rocking chair and tucked my legs under myself. Charlotte and Rosalie joined me. Rose crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap, every so often glancing down at her nails and inspecting the polish for chips. Char sat tailor style and rocked slowly. We would have, like always, chatted about nothing. But my phone rang.

Few people called me.

"Rachael," I said flatly.

"Bonjour, Sarah." Her voice was subdued. The worst had happened. "Maria's army is moving. They're almost to the US-Mexico border. You have a day at most."

"How many?" I asked. I pictured hoards.

From the other room, where Jasper sat, I heard the growl I had been expecting, but not the answering question of what was wrong, spoken in Carlisle's unfailing calm. Instead I heard a long dial tone. Then the click of a disconnected phone and Jasper dialing again. They hadn't answered.

I turned my attention to my own crisis in time to hear Rachael answer. "A few dozen. Maybe forty? I don't have an exact count. And it may dwindle by the time it reaches you."

She had a strange tone. Almost desperate? Surely not. I must be misreading it, as the Rachael that I knew cared little for others and she would see this fight - nearly seven of them for every one of us, God have mercy - as entertainment. My throat felt tight, but I managed to force a thanks from my mouth before disconnecting.

"Fuck!"

I flinched. Jasper had never cussed. It sounded unusually harsh on his lips.

He had gotten another dial tone, but this time it was accompanied by a robotic voice that mocked us: "The number you are trying to reach is out of range, please call again later."

Fuck.

"Jasper?" I said. I flinched at how weak my voice sounded. He was at my side in a moment. They all were. We gathered in the living room. I lowered into the armchair, cell phone twisting spastically in my grip. Rosalie sat in Emmett's lap, her eyes glistening with venom. Peter and Charlotte stood with their backs pressed against the wall, facing the entrance. They looked like tower guards - stiff and straight faced. Jasper paced in front of the hearth, hands clasped behind his back. The fire behind him burned, cracked, and cast long, dangerous shadows.

"Seven to one," Emmett murmured. He had lost a mirth and eagerness. Newborns were no longer a thrill but a glaring threat. What they should have been all along. He said, "is there any chance they'll just . . . stop?"

Foolish, I mentally admonished. But I amended it. Not foolish, only desperate.

"No," Jasper said, harshly, "Maria has lost all sense of reason. Giving up her territory; moving a group of Newborns, especially one that large; letting her army swell to those numbers at all: all of these things are foolhardy."

"Bitch always had a screw loose," Peter muttered. He was met with a glare from Jasper, and he cringed. "Sorry, Major."

"I guess running is not an option?" Rosalie asked.

Jasper said, "no. She will have given them our scent. They'll only continue to track us. And, she still has the option of telling the Volturi about Bella. Which she will certainly do if she sees no way of destroying us herself."

Rosalie scoffed. "I knew that girl would get us killed somehow."

I ignored every following protest and Hail-Mary plan, already having accepted the inevitable. They would come. And we were outnumbered. There was only one option left, one way that some of us may be spared. I had to call Joanna. I should have done it already, should have done it the moment I had heard an army was coming. But I hesitated. It was not the feelings of rejection and betrayal that stopped me now, as they had done so many times before. Those had gone like smoke the moment Rachael had called. No, my hesitation now was the knowledge that, by calling, I was bringing death upon them.

I weighed again the pros and cons, though my decision was already set. This was an act of desperation. Their presence would even the numbers, though only slightly. Instead of seven to one, we would be five to one.

This may get them all killed. And, for the ones who survived, it would rip open old wounds and cut new scars.

Without them, we would all die. With them, some may be spared.

I had no choice.

So I dialed.

* * *

 **"** **And there's always just these three siren spirits always following me  
** **They just appeared one night in the passenger seat  
** **They tell me all about your sins, salivate from their tongues  
** **And they kiss from their lips but their fingers is so cold to the touch"**

* * *

 **A/N Does anybody actually go listen to these songs, or is it just for my own benefit?**


	15. Chapter 15 - Lone Footsteps

I knew my sister's cell phone number from memory, but I tapped it out slowly. Until it was inevitable. The phone rang.

"Sarah!" Joanna cried.

She had answered on the first ring. There were no other voices - not even a breath - on her end of the phone. She must be alone. The only perceptible sounds were a distant highway: the rush of cars and the whine of horns.

Jasper glanced over and nodded, once, curtly, but it was approval all the same. I wished he would come sit with me, force me to calm, but his mind was wholly focused on the battle ahead. Everything was strategy, and emotional fluctuations carried little weight. Even my own. Rosalie's lip curled at the sound of my sister's voice. I did not doubt that the memories it had brought were painful for her. Emmett dropped an arm over her shoulders and she tucked into his chest, burying her growl there. Peter looked from me to Rosalie. I wondered what quip was forming in his mind. But, his gaze flicked to Charlotte, and the joke died on his lips.

"Hello, Joanna," I said. If my body would allow it, I thought I may cry. "I'm sorry, Jojo. I shouldn't have waited until I needed something to call."

I looked back to Jasper, yearning for him. But the Major had swallowed my attentive boyfriend. He only paced and plotted.

Fine, I thought. If he will not come to me . . .

I stood and walked to him, standing just an inch away and snaking my arm around his waist. He flinched in surprise, but his expression quickly softened and he held me close. A kiss fell onto my forehead.

"Oh, it's quite alright," Joanna said. An angel, I was sure of it. There was nothing of my actions that was excusable. Certainly not the request I was going to make of them. I almost reconsidered, but the faces I saw in front of me, faces of friends, of something I had never had, forced my plan forward.

Joanna said, "you do need something, though?"

She hesitated a beat before adding, "does it have anything to do with that Hispanic woman?"

An image of Maria filled my vision: wide red eyes and a sultry, snide smile.

Peter and Charlotte looked startled. Though I mentioned all of my family in passing, I had not volunteered details and they had not asked. So Heather's gift had never broached the conversation, nor did the woman herself. Heather led to Lawrence, led to guilt.

"Yes," I confirmed, "I never felt Heather watching. Has she learned to suppress the tell?"

Or had I become less observant? The thought felt sharp in my mind. With all that loomed, I could not abide a deficit in my abilities.

"No," Joanna said, "she's been using Jasper's eyes. We figured he wouldn't know what it felt like, and we didn't want you to feel like we were intruding."

Jasper frowned. He felt violated, I'm sure. Everyone did in the beginning. And I could practically hear his mind turning, much the same way my own had moments before. He wondered if his rigid attention to detail was slipping.

"Maria," I began. This did not need further explanation, Joanna would know her name. "She's sent her army after us. We're very outnumbered."

"When will they be there?" Joanna's voice was aptly grave, but this line of questioning was promising.

"A day," I said, "I'm sorry to ask this of you."

As I waited for her response, the world was so still that the breeze was a hurricane and the scamper of squirrels was a stampede. I held my breath.

"This is what family's for," Joanna said.

"Thank you," I exhaled. We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone.

This felt like nothing short of a miracle. Our numbers would raise considerably, a fifty percent increase. Our ratio fell from seven Newborns to every one of us to only four. This was not ideal, but it was manageable.

We may survive this.

I tried to squash the hope before it could spark, but that lovely feeling was nearly impossible to suppress. It tingled like electricity up and down my spine. It left my body, flowed into Jasper, who broadcast it - reluctantly, the feeling had overwhelmed him as well - through the room. And we could all breathe a sigh of relief.

But we endured hours of waiting. Waiting for my family to arrive. Waiting for Newborns to attack. And thoughts, like vipers, slipped into our consciousness. I watched Emmett and Rosalie's movements carefully, waiting for any sign, however small, that they could handle themselves in a fight. But I saw none. Their ears didn't prick at every sound. Their position did not shift with each movement of the room around them. Their attention remained solely fixed on each other.

The sun began to lower, igniting the sky. Burning reds and flickering tails of yellow danced amongst the trees.

I tried to calculate the odds in my mind, but too many variables were mere estimations. I could assume that Maria had forty Newborns when crossing the border. I could assume, based on past observations, that a fifth of them would be gone before they reached us. Would Maria herself join the fight? Jasper said no.

Owls screeched and wolves howled. Night had fallen.

I considered strategy. I'm sure that those of us with experience would fall into a natural rhythm. How would the Cullens adapt?

These thoughts were poison. My anxiety mounted.

"Hey, Little Bit?" Peter said. I looked at him. Jasper looked at him. I could almost feel the scrutinizing expression on my mate's face, weighing the timbre of Peter's emotions. He, unfailingly protective, may forbid him to speak if it was joking or mocking. But I could use some levity.

"Yes?" I said.

"How many of your family are there?" he asked.

We had not told them everything. I cursed myself that I had only just realized this. "There are three. My sister Joanna - she is the one I spoke to on the phone. My brother Matthew and his mate Heather."

Peter and Charlotte nodded along.

"Who is the coven leader?" Char asked.

"Matthew, I suppose," I answered hesitantly. I hadn't considered this, before. I parsed it allowed, "Our coven was larger before. We had Augustine, the man who created us, and Daniel, the eldest. But they were killed a couple of years ago. Matthew, being the next oldest should have taken control, but he had a Newborn mate to care for. . . and her friend, also Newborn."

Lawrence was a hesitant after thought. I had been hoping to banish him to a footnote in the long history of the Augustine family, but he remained like a wine stain, soaking through page after page. Even the immediate situation was a domino Lawrence had toppled.

"So, Matthew asked me to lead. And I did, for a short time. Then . . . things . . . happened, and here we are."

'Things'? What a coward!

Jasper, having felt the flash of self-hatred, frowned at me. I leaned further into him, and his strong arms held me tighter.

"I suppose it's possible that they are operating more democratically, being that there are only three of them."

If I had learned anything about covens and coven leaders, it was the transient nature of power. Though the six of us gathered here had been yanked from three different covens, Jasper was unquestionably in charge. A dominant personality, perhaps? Skill? What was it that -

Footsteps echoed in the distance. They came in rapid succession, like machine gun fire. This was no stray human, and it was no wild animal.

Everyone leapt to their feet.

"Only one?" Jasper muttered. He looked at me, the unspoken question clear on his face. Could Joanna be alone?

I shook my head. "They wouldn't split up."

"They're staying downwind of us," Jasper said. He was correct, of course, their scent was invisible to the house.

"Maria?" Rosalie asked.

"She wouldn't risk coming alone." Jasper's eyes darted from window to window, scrutinizing our surroundings. There was nothing on the horizon, not even wind to rustle the leaves. "Whoever they are, we will surprise them. All of us. It isn't wise to split up, and it is not wise to let them catch us off guard. Come. Stay close together."

He stalked towards the door, and the rest of us followed. I walked like my mate's shadow. Emmett was fighting the urge to run ahead and Rosalie was battling herself - and her husband's enthusiasm - to stay middled. She longed to hang back. Peter and Charlotte took the rear, carefully monitoring the empty land in our wake.

We ran north, and the wind at our backs pushed us forward.

The foreign vampire's scent remained hidden, but the closer proximity brought clarity of sound. The newcomer's heel strike was small but sharp. They wore heels. The words that fell from her mouth were high-pitched, rapid, and breathy. Could she be . . . mumbling to herself?

It would be a mere second before her scent came.


	16. Chapter 16 - Alice

The scent of orange blossoms filled the air, known but not familiar.

"Alice!" Emmett yelled, sprinting ahead. Jasper made a grab for him as he passed, hesitant to break formation, but his attempt was half-hearted and we heard the crash of Emmett's huge body against Alice.

"What the hell, Emmett?" Alice screeched. The sound of her hands combing through her her, setting the short spikes back in place, reached out to us, and we moved forward. As the two Cullens came into view, we losened our formation and formed an arc around the manic pixie. Alice looked uncharacteristically disheveled. Her hair, usually tightly spiked, had the crunchy droops of old gel. Her clothes were wrinkled, clearly worn for a few days in a row. And her expression was wild: eyes wide and teeth clenched.

"I had a vision!" she proclaimed. She flung her arms to the side, but her theatrics came from desperation, not a desire for drama.

"Yes," Jasper said, steadily, "I surmised as much. Are the others coming?"

I pulled the woodsy air through my nostrils. It was saturated with the perfumes of a dozen vampires - Maria's scent, like saccharine poison, still lingered. But there were no other Cullens.

Alice's gaze flicked to the ground. "No. We, um, we took your advice."

Jasper raised an eyebrow. I strained my memory, trying to pick whatever sage wisdom Jasper had imparted out of the jumble of the past few days.

"You said that we would be better off turning Bella," she explained, "since Maria, and some stranger, clearly know about her."

Rosalie growled, but Alice only rolled her eyes. "It took some convincing . . . actually, the rest of us were on board from the start. It was Edward that took some convincing, but, once Carlisle had agreed to it, he finally relented. They took her up into The Yukon."

Large expanses of empty, snowy mountains. It was an ideal place for a young vegetarian.

"That's why they were unreachable by phone," Jasper reasoned, "you got her away from populated areas. That will be a good place to keep her for the first few months, then you can let her slowly acclimate to being around humans. What did you tell Charlie?"

"Actually," Alice said. Her eyes were firmly planted on the floor. "I was taking care of that when I had the vision."

Taking care of? Staging an accident? Planting evidence?

Alice continued, "the others had gone ahead, and I was going to tell Charlie that Bella had decided to spend the summer in Canada with our family. He was against it of course, but Bella is eighteen now, so there wasn't much he could say."

"So, you are going to tell him she died in Canada?" Jasper asked pointedly, as though that were the only acceptable answer. And, truthfully, it was. Bella could have no relationship with her father once she had been turned. The bloodlust would not allow it. And, even if her thirst could could be restrained, the Voturi could not. There was no way Charlie could overlook the hardening of his daughter's skin, or the color her eyes would take. His inevitable knowledge of our kind would pose too great a threat for Aro to allow, and we would find ourselves back in the same dilemma.

Alice shook her head slowly. "There's no changing her mind, Jazz. She wants a relationship with her father."

"She doesn't understand the consequences yet," Jasper said, "surely Edward or Carlisle is trying to talk some sense into her?"

Again, Alice shook her head. "No. Edward will give her whatever she wants, you know that. And, once Esme brought up how unfair it was to make a parent lose a child . . . well, no one said anything about it again."

Jasper quieted, and a crease appeared between his eyebrows as he slipped into a moment of deep thought. There was some history here did not know, I surmised, but my own experience with my Samuel supported Esme's sentiment. There were few things harder than losing a child.

"So," Jasper said, "you had a vision?"

"Yes. I saw Maria's army coming. I knew you needed help, but I saw that there wasn't time to get the others. The best I could do was come alone," she said.

"You wouldn't have made it in time?" I asked quietly.

She shook her head, "and we won't be able to contact them."

Ten against forty.

Can Alice even fight? I thought back to that night in Athens. One on one, she fared well. Though she was too reliant on her gifts for my taste - what if she encountered a vampire with a shield gift? - but she had come through intact.

"Their numbers have grown, as well," Alice said, "they have sixty, at least."

Ten to sixty. One to six.

I could not be certain in my own ability to handle six Newborns at once. Certainly not in Alice's or Rosalie's or Emmett's. But, if they worked in small groups - they would have to, there was no other way for them to survive - it would leave the more experienced of us contending with massive ratios. Seven, eight, even ten Newborns for every one of us.

Peter let out a long whistle, and Jasper muttered something about Maria having lost her mind. She certainly had. There would be no way to control such a large army, some only a day old. Could she have been turned so many in a day? Would they have had time to awaken? Perhaps, if they had been pumped full of enough venom, but these were not effective fighters. Newborns, at that stage, did not spare a thought to anything that would not get blood down their throat. No carrot or stick could move them, as they could not think even a step ahead. They would only add chaos and bodycount.

"Do you know how long we have until they come?" Jasper asked solemnly.

"Forty two minutes," Alice said gravely, "Sarah, your family will arrive in twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes to find the words to say to them. I had centuries of thanks to express. Twenty two minutes to say it. Twenty two minutes to express my love to all those who had it.

"Should we go back to the house?" Rosalie asked. Her voice was fractured by nerves.

"No," Jasper said, "we'll have an advantage out here in the trees."

He walked to the closest redwood, peered into the canopy thoughtfully, and rapped its trunk. Newborns could think only in straight lines. A tree was an obstacle to them, not a tool. I watched my mate - the most important love to express - examine the terrain. So disciplined, intelligent, and protective; perfect; and mine.

"Jasper," I breathed, walking to him.

Without turning to me - distracted, though could anyone blame him? - he said, "yes?"

Frowning, I touched his arm. "Jasper?"

He turned to me, concern written on his face. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he responded in kind, hugging around my waist and pulling me securely against him. I lay my cheek against his chest, and he rested his lips in my hair. Comfort pulsed from him, warm like a quilt around my shoulders.

"I love you," I whispered. It was muffled in the hard planes of his body. He held me tighter. "I love you too, Sarah. So much."

There were no words to express to magnitude of emotions inside of me, nothing I could say to him that would express just how much I love him. I was infinitely blessed that my emotions could speak for me. My world had shifted the day I accepted him as my mate. Our relationship was sacred, fated, holy.

The others, given permission by my and Jasper's display, were locked in their own quiet affections. Peter and Charlotte sat on the grassy floor, her in his lap, holding hands and whispering to each other. Emmett had lifted Rosalie into his arms, she wrapped herself around him like a vice and they were kissing. Alice - alone, but unbothered - had prostrated herself on the moss, her eyes screwed closed and vision deep in the future. That was a hopeless endeavour. There were too many decisions packed into each moment of a battle. It would be impossible to see the out come. She flinched and grimaced as the visions passed before her eyes.

Jasper and I, in our wordless embrace, had been thinking too much. I could tell by the twists and turns of his emotions. They fluxed from pure love to biting concern and grief. He traced circles on my back. I myself had been forced to consider the things I had been trying to fight.

Maria wasn't coming for us as a collective. No, I, and the Cullens, and my family, and Peter and Charlotte, we were mere obstacles in her pursuit of my mate. It would be him she target, his scent she gave her newborns, him facing the greatest danger.

Thirty minutes.


	17. Chapter 17 - Little Sister

_**The Horrible Crowes - I Believe Jesus Brought Us Together**_

* * *

They were there all at once, no preamble, no preparation. Suddenly, I was confronted by the face of my little sister. Despite her rounded cheeks and tawny hair, I was looking at a mirror of my younger self. She was innocent and lovely, and her bottom lip worried between her teeth. With the toe of her Converse, she nudged a felled branch - the remnants of Emmett's destruction. The green leaves shivered. Matthew could barely hide the smile pulling at his mouth, but he postured in the face of unfamiliar vampires, crossing his arms and squaring his shoulders. His dark hair was unkempt, lending him a boyish quality. Heather's hair was a frizzy golden halo, and she bounced, frenetic and grinning, on the balls of her feet.

"None of y'all gonna say anything?" Peter asked, eyebrow cocked and smirk firmly in place as he looked between the two groups. Charlotte backhanded his shoulder and scowled at him. I could read her mind: _let them have their moment._ Joanna, angered by the drop of a hat, could not muster a glare. Her gaze was fixed on my face, the vignette tight as all the Others faded to colorful noise. Her expression whirled between eagerness and hesitation.

Jasper's hand rested on my hip, twitching to pull me away at the slightest threat. But I euphoric. High. Flying. I stepped towards Joanna as she stepped towards me, and we met with a crushing hug. Lavender pooled, iridescent, in my vision as venom welled in my eyes.

"Thank you for coming, JoJo," I breathed. The smell of her hair filled my senses and my head swam. I clutched her to me.

"I've missed you," Joanna whimpered. She laughed, and her chest rattled with a half-sob. I pulled back enough to see her face and brushed my thumb across her soft marble cheek, wiping away tears that could never fall. In a moment, months - an eternity - of tension had gone like smoke in the breeze. I had worried for nothing, hesitated for nothing. I could have had my sister all this time.

In the fuzzy background of people who were not my little sibling, I heard Matthew and Emmett settle their differences with a terse exchange of "No hard feelings?" and "Nah, we're good, Man". Male relationships were something I could never understand, practically a foreign language to me as I had seen the best of friendships begin with a punch to the face. Rosalie and Heather were less warm, but caused no trouble with their steely glances.

"Hey, Morphine," Matthew addressed me, a bright grin lighting his face.

"Hello, Matt," I said, reluctantly pulling away from my sister. I crossed the few yards to meet him and found myself enveloped in his immense strength. He kissed my cheek and whispered, "this is so fucking sappy."

I laughed into his chest. More tears welled, and the pigmented venom obscured my world with swimming blues and purples.

Peter muttered, "damn right," earning him another slap from his wife.

Heather hovered to my left, arms crossed protectively around herself and her eyes firmly locked on the ground. Somehow Heather, newest to our family and with the most contentious past, was the last to enter my mind. I could try and justify this to myself, but it would be futile, an exercise in misery. She was my sister too, and deserved to feel as such. I left Matt's arms for Heather's and wrapped around her like a vice. She gave a slight jump of surprise.

"I love you," I breathed, and she melted, hugging me in return.

"Love yo -"

It assaulted our senses, the sickly sweet of foreign vampires. Dozens of them, their scents twineing through the air, a cacophony of perfumes and colognes. Heather and I jumped apart. I flashed to Jasper on instinct, my mate-bond all consuming, pounding in my mind like a hammer. Jasper. Jasper. Jasper. He pushed me behind his back, muscles tensed and straining underneath his thin t-shirt. And he gripped my waist, holding me in place. I was defended in theory, but there were too many. I had to stand on my own feet, to fight.

We may have thirty seconds.

As I looked at everyone around me - my mate, my friends, my family, even Alice - I cared for them all. How large and full my family had become - how very large, the combination of mine and Jasper's! To be surrounded by love and fear, a double edged sword. The more I loved the people around me, the more I feared for their safety. The more I feared, the more I loved.

I broke from Jasper's grip and stepped back into a fighting stance: a steady base, cocked and ready to swing.

Jasper stood firm before me, the line of his shoulders tight and square. This couldn't be. I needed clear sight and greater space.

Emmett and Rosalie had taken a similar position, him guarding her. But, while I stood proud and tall, Rose shrank like a flower in the long shadow of her husband.

Peter and Charlotte had taken up guard beside each other, tightly in the other's orbit but not hindering sight or movement.

 _Move, Jasper! You can't protect me!_ I pleaded.

Alice hovered to our left, her eyes screwed tightly closed and mind in the future. Instinct told me she should fight on her merit, but who was I to tell her not to use her gift? Mine only hindered me, and it hindered my already. The approaching army had torn at each other, a crack to the chest, an arm asunder. My whole body ached.

My family formed a loose arch on the rightmost edge of our company, Matthew a step in front of the women. They were rock-steady, a solid, battle-tested weapon against whatever was to come.

A Newborn shot through the trees, her streak of crimson hair a flame in the forest. Another behind her, coal black clothes and a coal black buzzcut. Then two more. A dozen more.

* * *

 ** _"_** **Did you say you were afraid of dying?  
** _ **I ain't lived a single day without you  
**_ _ **Do you wanna come over?  
**_ _ **I was just about to miss you  
**_ _ **Did you say you were lonely?  
**_ _ **I was right about to call you"**_


	18. Chapter 18 - They're Showing Their Teeth

_**The Horrible Crowes - Mary Ann**_

* * *

They made landfall like a hurricane: a tumult of scrambling limbs and snapping jaws, tearing the landscape, relentless, scouring the earth and uprooting trees.

A storm before me, behind me, above me. But I had steady feet below. _Dear God, stay on your feet._

Hair like fire and eyes burning vengeance, the first Newborn barreled forth. She was ahead of her pack, the youngest and the first deadly gust. Emmett leapt at her, and they tumbled. He sprawled on top, wrenching her arms back at a grotesque angle, but he was swallowed in the surge. The next Newborn leapt on top of him, and another, and another. And more to come.

Rosalie's scream pierced the chaos.

Eagar and foolish, like I knew him to be, Emmett yelled, "don't worry, Babe. I got this!"

He threw elbows and made careless grabs at the bodies piled on top of him. One sharp set of fangs sliced through his skin and he hissed with pain. I ignored the reflection in my own arm. As the heap of Newborns grew, Jasper ran to Emmett's aid. He twisted their necks to the point of splintering and tossed the weeping shards. When the pile had ebbed, Jasper hauled Emmett, who was clutching his wound, upright.

"Stay on your feet," Jasper ordered. He pivoted to take the next enemy.

Peter and Charlotte circled the army, picking off those at the periphery one by one: swift, brutal, and silent. Newborns knew only a forward charge, and, as Peter and Charlotte ducked in and out of shadows, they were practically invisible. Matt, Heather, and Joanna mirrored them, tossing Newborns between themselves as they dismembered them. Emmett and Rosalie fanned to the sides. All together they created a funnel, pushing the enemy into a narrow hole, at the bottom of which was I, Jasper, and Alice.

As the first Newborn hurtled towards me, I took in her tangled, waist length hair. I sidestepped her first wild pass, and a half turn allowed me to watch her - she took a moment to blink away the confusion - and the horde simultaneously. As she came again, a second enemy appeared on my other side, his dark goatee sticky with half-dried blood and fresh venom. His crimson eyes locked on me and he sprinted.

The timing was a God-send. I grabbed his outstretched arm and let the momentum carry him in a wide arc around me, his body slamming into the female Newborn and knocking her back once more. She let out a wail of frustration; he a groan of surprise.

I could see in my periphery that Jasper had just finished with one of his own. The man he had fought now lay in two pieces: his body, crumpled to the ground, and his skull, separated at the jaw, just feet away.

Still firmly grasping the goateed man's arm and spinning, I called Jasper's name and he turned in time to catch the other limb. We pulled together - quickly, the brunette is still coming! - and the Newborn fell to his knees, shrieking with pain. Jasper finished him as I turned back to the woman.

I took her head on. With her tangled hair clenched in one fist and her shoulder pressed against by the other, I pulled her head from her body. It was quick, but her consciousness lingered in the disembodied brain and the pain shot through her lifeless nerves. Shot through me. Why do I feel it so strongly when they are my own kills?

But I could not be crippled, so I reclaimed my mind and pushed on, taking out another two Newborns in rapid succession.

They were getting the worst of it at the head of our funnel, Peter and Matthew taking the brunt, but skill held and they remained on their feet. But there were so many that dozens slipped past our front line.

Alice, eyes firmly closed - Lord, I still hate that - was taking on two, lithe as she danced around their attacks. She moved in defense only. Another three Newborns caught her in their sights and descended. Her eyes shot open, wide with fear. Outnumbered and she knew it. I searched for an out, but I had two of my own to contend with: a young blond man and a girl who might as well be his twin. I threw a quick punch at the man.

Jasper fought his own, as did Rosalie and Emmett. With her family occupied, I feared there was little hope for the tiny vampire.

I swiped at the female Newborn, to finish her off, to get to Alice, but I had to hold the man at bay. As another joined their assault on me, it was all I could do was rip chunks from their skin and try to knock them back, watching, helpless, to Alice's plight.

Alice had screwed her eyes closed once again and flailed at the tangle of bodies that surrounded her. She took the shoulder off one and they howled, but a girl managed to sink her teeth into Alice's arm, ripping flesh down to bone with a shriek of cut stone. The pain distracted Alice, and she abandoned a block to huddle over the wound. Another Newborn sank its teeth into her hip. She screamed.

Joanna flew, diving over the mass of Newborns and firmly planting herself next to the beleaguered woman. She pulled gnashing teeth from Alice's torn flesh and snapped their heads from their necks. Joanna pushed, Alice pulled, Newborns crumbled. Alice found a moment to meet Joanna's eyes, and wordless thanks passed between them in a pair of tight smiles.

I sunk my teeth into the neck of the blonde woman, glycerine poured into my mouth and I fought a gag. This was the last resort attack, but I was there. It felt like hundreds of hands were ripping into me, but there were three, only three. Two now, as I bit through stone and decapitated.

Joanna ducked the nashing teeth of a male Newborn as she contended with its fellow soldier. Alice's precognitive dance erred, and the man crashed against her. Claws tore through skin and severed her arm at the bicep. Her scream was just as piercing. It was fire and the wounds wept venom. Joanna pushed Alice back with one arm while wrestling the Newborn with the other. When Alice was sufficiently sheltered, and cradling her injury, Joanna pulled the Newborn into a headlock. He still clutched Alice's arm in his frantic grasp, trying to use it as a bat against my sister.

"Grab it, Alice," Joanna hissed. She drove a knee into his stomach.

Alice scurried forward and snatched her limb away.

"I'll hold them off." Joanna shoved her foot into the Newborns hip and tightened her grip on his neck. "Spit will reattach that."

She increased pressure until his head popped away from his shoulders, and she cast it, with a look of disgust, to the side. Alice grimaced, but spat on the gaping wound and pressed her arm into place. Joanna kicked another Newborn away, and another, defending Alice until she was steady.

Beautiful moments are all the more so when shown in the hideous, a little bright light in the darkness. This moment was entrancing and I, like a moth to flame, wanted to hug my sister.

The blond man dove at me from behind, and I ducked, clenching his head and neck against my shoulder as his body tumbled. As I released my death-grip, his head slid down my back and the rest dropped at my feet. The next man swiped at me and I bobbed to the side. His fist sailed just shy of my skull, the wind cutting through my hair. I returned the blow, connecting with the side of his neck and he fell.

And no other came.

As Jasper killed his last, no other came.

Looking out upon the battlefield, the flow had ebbed. Rosalie and Emmett snapped one last apart, her pulling it's arms and him yanking its head. Amongst the rubble, chunks of marble, shining with spilled venom glinting silver in the moonlight, Peter shrugged off one and killed another. Matthew picked up the one he had cast aside and finished it. And no other came.

Stray feet and fingers twitched with life, but were impotent, quelled, defeated.

I started gathering the mangled pieces of what were once people - innocent people, God rest their souls - and Jasper did the same. We tossed limbs and skulls into a pile, and the twitching fingers groped, the soulless eyes blinked, the pieces fought their way to their counterparts. Jasper pulled a Zippo from his pocket and tossed it into the tomb. The blaze seemed to scrape the Heavens. There were hisses, pops, and screams, but they died with the embers. Jasper grimaced and turned away. I prayed.

Saints of God, come to their aid, come to meet them, Angels of the Lord.

My throat felt pressed down into my chest, a heavy burden. I reached for Jasper's hand as he reached for me. We met in a desperate hug. My world, for a moment, felt small. Just him and I.

"Jasper!" Peter called, "there's more coming!"

* * *

" _ **Look out below! The hurricane comes near  
**_ _ **The waters are poison and they're showing their teeth  
**_ _ **Is that your baby, or my, my your darling?  
**_ _ **Well, didn't she hear the sirens and the storm bell's warning?"**_


	19. Chapter 19 - Second Wave

_**The Horrible Crowes - Crush**_

* * *

A second wave required patience a Newborn could not have, not for quite a few months. I pictured the eyes: a subtle change, ruby versus crimson. A dangerous change. With it came the ability to think ahead and plan an attack.

Alice closed her eyes, just longer than a blink, and she hissed, "two minutes."

Her arm had not fully healed, still rigid and burning as the venom knitted nerve and muscle whole again. She rubbed the injury with her working hand.

"Maria must have borrowed your idea," Charlotte muttered.

Jasper's jaw was hard set and his eyes steely. "She always said it wasn't worth it."

"What," Matthew asked. He stared down the treeline, "exactly 'wasn't worth it'?"

Jasper and Peter exchanged glances, history churning between them, before my mate spoke, "I wanted to keep the more skilled fighters, and those with gifts, past the year mark. It would build a stronger army. Maria always insisted that was overkill. Afraid of them rising up against her, I suppose. Peter was the only one I was able to spare."

"And I'm damn glad of it," Peter said.

"The idea was," Jasper continued, "to thin out the opposing army with Newborns, then have a second wave of more skilled soldiers handle the rest. For her to implement it now - "

Jasper scoffed. "Well she has always been sadistic."

"Amen to that, Brother," Peter said. His stony expression almost masked the shudder that ran through him.

Footsteps like a stampede. Cloying scents.

"Remember these aren't Newborns." Jasper's cadence raced, verging on unintelligible. The order was directed at the Cullens, but sensible for us all. "They will think through their attacks and you must do the same. Many will have gifts. You must be adaptable."

The footsteps grew closer, louder, I could hear heavy breath and nervous whispering.

Then nothing.

I could see Peter mouth "holy . . .".

No, he must have been speaking, yet I could not hear.

I looked to Jasper. His brow was furrowed and he raised a hand to his ear. I couldn't hear the rustle of clothes or light tap of skin on skin that should have accompanied such a gesture.

Blinding pain burst through the back of my skull as my head jerked with the force of a punch I had not seen coming. I pivoted to face a large man. He wore a smirk. Though his adam's apple bobbed with laughter, I could not hear it. Like I did not hear him approach.

He reeled back to punch me again and I dove against his exposed stomach. As we hit the ground, I tucked, intending to roll to my feet. My hip smacked the ground instead. I flinched in pain and blinked against the confusion. My equilibrium must be severely damaged. Whatever power had stolen my hearing had done so by destroying my inner ear. I could only hope it was not permanent, that my hearing would fall back into place as that vampire fell in death.

A fist met my cheek, the blow of the large man. He had a knee in my stomach, pinning me to the ground. His long, scraggly hair itched against my face as his teeth moved dangerously close to my neck. I slammed my palm into his nose, and the shards, like hail, poured upon my face. He grabbed the injury, his mouth flew open in a silent scream. I kicked against his mass and he flew back, far enough for me to scramble to my feet. The world did not rise with me. Everything I saw tipped and swayed, or was it I that was swaying?

I saw my family stumble after every punch they threw, afflicted by the same curse as I.

Out of my periphery, I caught a glimpse of dark hair and white knuckles. I ducked the right hook, and, as I stood, drove my shoulder into his chest. He flew back again. I tried to steady myself.

Jasper grabbed the man's body from the air and slammed it to the ground. He moved to step on the man's neck, crush it under his foot like a bug. He could not find the right foot fall. His heel scraped down the side, shaving skin but not destroying. The man grabbed Jasper's calf and flipped him to his back. Learning from his mistakes with me, and he pinned Jasper's arms into the dirt. As the man loomed above my struggling mate, I dove at him. His head snapped under my grip and I tossed it into the roaring fire.

I was sure it popped and cracked, but my hearing and my equilibrium had not returned. I had so hoped that he was the one causing this.

Looking upon the battlefield, it was clear whatever divisions had existed among our side were gone. Old wounds forgiven and forgotten, my family and Jasper's fought alongside each other. Joanna had found a place next to Emmett and Rosalie, and the three passed bodies between themselves. The dismemberment was fluid and wordless, like a machine. Only the occasional stumble betrayed the supernatural onslaught. One would steady the other, and the work would resume.

Alice and Heather danced around each other, Matthew as their guard, as they wielded their powers against the enemy. Heather's eyes were glassy, her body moving automatically. Alice's eyes were screwed tight, dancing below the lids with vision after vision. She gracelessly ducked the kick of a rival vampire. Matthew jumped forward, grabbing the flying leg and swinging the attached vampire into a tree. There must have been a mighty crack, as the trunk had splintered. Heather snatched his limp, falling body from the air. Though she fell with it, she managed to decapitate. The pieces met fire.

The world righted itself. Noises came crashing like waves. The hurricane had returned. Grunts and curses, the shriek of ripping stone, it was all music to my ears - my functioning ears.

Joy could never last.

As though under direct command - perhaps while we were still deafened? Or by some psychic force? - all our enemies about faced, turning to Alice. Her eyes flew open.

"Oh!" she whimpered, her voice no louder than the breeze. There was an edge of defeat in her tone; I could only imagine what horrible death she had forseen for herself.

They rushed her.

Jasper and I took off behind them. We grabbed at the hoarde from behind, pulling at clothes, shoulders, and hair to force them from the mob. Peter and Charlotte, Emmett and Rosalie were just behind us. It seemed that, as we killed one from the back, the front moved faster.

Alice tried to duck to the side, but they had begun to close in. Snapping jaws pushed her back towards the center. She stumbled backwards, trembling.

For a flash of a moment, I saw a quirk in their attack. It was not Alice their eyes had locked onto, but the spot that she stood. Even when she dove to the side, their eye remained fixed. I didn't know what to do with this. I could not move her, for diving into the mob, taking her place would be suicide. My own life, perhaps, I could throw away for Alice. But my death would be Jasper's as well. And that thought was unbearable.

I had not been the only one to notice this quirk. Heather's eyes, glassy and far away, danced towards the patch of grass upon which Alice stood.

I yanked the long, white-blonde hair of the enemy in front of me. Her head snapped from her body. I was one closer to Alice. The rational part of me recognized this as futile. The mob was too deep, and they were closing in.

Heather's dove through the air, and, as she landed, shoved Alice away. Her feet met the patch of grass.

Alice tumbled back into a tree, shock clear on her face.

Teeth met Heather's wrist. Claws fisted in her hair. She screamed. Did she understand the sacrifice she had made? The dull nature of acceptance in her eye told me she did.

Matthew growled and spit, feral in his slaughter as he pushed towards his mate.

As Heather tore away one's head, another caught her arm. It snapped at the elbow.

 _No, no, my sister, no!_ My heart screamed for her.

Matthew roared, destroying a swath of enemies. He was inches from his mate, the desperation misting his eyes.

One vampire grabbed her full arm, another fisted in her hair, yanking her head back and exposing her throat. She thrashed and flailed in their grasp. Her weeping elbow was not enough to hold them at bay.

Her cry of 'Matthew' was cut short.

Her mate fought harder. He was caught in the spiderweb of limbs, sticky with venom splatter.

If we could keep her from being burned, she could be spared.

Just as the thought entered my mind, her body went up in flames. There was no dropped match, no lighter, no source of the flame. Between the shrieks of pain and despair that threatened to consume me, I realized one of our enemies must be pyrokinetic.

Her skin cracked and blistered. Purple plumes of smoke filled the air, choking and cloying. As the fire consumed her face, a tear slipped from her eye. And she was ash. My little sister was ash.

Matthew stopped fighting. The ache of his grief eclipsed the ache of his arms being torn from him.

"Matt!' Joanna screamed. I understood, I wanted to scream as well. But I sympathized with Matthew. To lose a mate - _if I lost Jasper -_ there would be no recovery. Joanna had survived the loss of her Daniel through the strength of our family, a family that was no longer strong or whole. And that was my fault. They should not have been here. And that was my fault.

"I'm so sorry, Matt, Heather," I breathed.

Fire consumed him.

This was not the time for grieving. As soon as the flames were lit, an enemy leapt on top of me. His bulk slammed my chest and I was thrown backward. I twisted in the air, using the momentum to roll on top of him. His teeth were bared, glistening with foaming venom. I drove one knee into his chest and kicked his chin. His head snapped up and off, and I tossed it to the nearby fire.

I stood to take on the next enemy, but my senses were devoted to my family. I was consumed with the need to keep track of the remaining members. Jasper, just to the left of me, fought two. He was winning handily, ducking and dodging and letting them crash against the other. Joanna crouched on the shoulders of her opponent, twisting and pulling at his throat as he tried to buck her off.

Peter screamed. His pain hit my body just as I processed the sight of him on his knees, face contorted in agony. As the fire consumed me, I stumbled backwards. I grabbed at air, searching blindly for Jasper's support. He wrapped an arm around my waist, keeping me from being inundated. He dragged us backwards, out of the thick of battle.

This new vampire must share a gift with Jane.

Charlotte shoved at every vampire that approached, forcing them away from her infirm husband. She moved with desperation. Rosalie, Emmett, Alice and Joanna joined her, forming a tight circle around Peter. They fought the barrage of vampires, attacking in unison again, another psychic command.

Joanna's wretched scream engulfed me. Peter managed to clamber to his feet, but he leaned heavily on Charlotte, aftershocks of pain still hitting him. The circle of our allies shifted, pulling her into their protection as well. As Peter's strength returned, he found his place at Joanna's defense. I fought the burn inside myself to stumble towards my sister and join her protection.

Jasper was my shadow, driving me into the center of the circle with Joanna before he took his place between Peter and Rosalie.

I knelt by my baby sister, my last sibling, as she writhed in pain. Her eyes met mine, they were wide and glassy, silently begging for relief. I grabbed her hand in mine. The pain was an explosion, again and again in every vein, artery, capillary I had. It was as though my own venom was boiling.

I must have been taking the edge from her pain, as my sister crawled to a seated position. I dropped next to her and she wrapped her arms around me. I embraced her, burying my face in her tawny hair and pulling as much pain from her as I could. All I could think of was that day, centuries ago, that my sister had fallen off the chicken coop. And I didn't feel like a vampire. I didn't feel like an adult. I felt like that little girl carrying her injured sister back to the house.

As quickly as this mob had formed, it dispersed, the horde of vampires spraying across the clearing in a million different directions.

Who ever commanded them must have realized that we were strong as a group. Their victory would be to divide us. And so they did. We had no choice but to engage if we were to win.

Peter, Charlotte, Em, and Rosalie danced in and out of the crowd. Jasper stood guard over Joanna and I as we gained our strength. It came back slowly. Though it was truly only seconds, each that passed was a lifetime. Finally, we clambered to our feet. With a last squeeze of my hand and a thankful smile, Joanna disappeared into the fray.

We were pulled to far corners of the and I held our position in the back right. Peter and Charlotte fought to our distant left. Joanna in front of us, Rosalie and Emmett to her left. We were effectively split, one group unable to protect the other for the vampires that separated us.

As Jasper sank to his knees, I was defending him alone. Though he made no sound - to his endless credit, he made no sound - his nerves screamed with a voice of their own. I ached to take his pain. I had to, if he were to live, as I could not fight for us both. But I could not stop and touch him.

Peals of cruel laughter reached my ears. Maria.

She appeared at the edge of the clearing, flanked by three other vampires. Her wild hair and wild eyes danced with amusement. The man on her right hand side, tall and dark, both in stature and in presence, enjoyed the bulk of her attention. She whispered in his ear, lips brushing seductively against his neck. His eyes were trained on Jasper and he smirked. He must be the odynokinetic.

The woman on Maria's left had fiery hair and a bored expression, the director, I guessed, bored that her talents were not currently in use. The man next to her danced and swayed like flames. His gaze scanned the field, searching for fallen bodies. The pyrokinetic. There was no one more dangerous.

I begged my gift to work through air. I focused on the space between Jasper and I, and everything that bridged it. Our mate bond, like a rope, tethered us to each other. We touched the same air, and the space between us was electric.

"Peter!" I screamed, "Charlotte!"

I gestured towards the pyrokinetic man, praying they would understand.

 _You can do this. You can do this. For Jasper, you can do this. Jasper. Jasper. Jasper._

I focused on his pain, his fear and anger. I let it conflate with my own anguish. My gift reached out, crossing the space between and finding him.

But I was too late. I swiped at at the enemy as it ran past me, but with one more on my left and another on top of me. With a quick punch, Jasper's body crumpled. His head fell just feet away.

I bit back a scream and threw my body on his. If he burned I would burn too.

My chest felt hollow, my head felt heavy. Sobs shook my body.

Jasper's muscles twitched against my skin, still seizing in pain. I threw my energy into easing it. The physical pain was some small relief, it distracted me from the pain in my heart. I held Jasper's face in my hands and guided his head back to his body, fitting the two pieces together. I lay quick, wet kisses along the seam in his neck, sealing flesh to flesh.

The threat of fire was so imminent, I could almost feel the flames licking my skin.

"Wake up, My Love," I begged between kisses.

I felt a presence above me, then another. And the sounds of fighting. Peter and Charlotte, guarding us. And there was no fire.

I spared a glance from my mate's face. The pyrokinetic had been destroyed, turned to rubble and scattered.

"Come on, Jas," I lay another kiss on his throat. The crack had almost completely healed. His pain was ebbing.

"You best get up quick, Major," Peter muttered under his breath, "we still got Maria to kill."

* * *

" _ **If you should go there before I do  
**_ _ **God's gonna trouble the water  
**_ _ **Tell all my friends that I'm coming too  
**_ _ **God's gonna trouble the water"**_


	20. Chapter 20 - Last Rites

_**The Horrible Crowes - Last Rites**_

* * *

The sky around us burned with sunrise and fire. Purple smoke twined around the flames like vipers, spilling their sickly sweet scent into the air. Stray corpses, the marble ruins of ancient statues, littered the battlefield. So few remained standing. My Love, my Jasper could not stand. I covered his body with my own, begging, pleading, praying for him to awaken. Moments stretched like years. I heard the clash of fighting behind and above me; recognized the presence of Peter and Charlotte, Emmett and Rosalie, Alice, and Joanna; thanked God for their safety. Despite the horror and tragedy, I thanked God for their safety.

One more kiss, one more dose of my venom, and Jasper gasped. His eyes snapped open, but they were glassy and dazed.

"Get up, Jasper," Peter commanded. The clanging of fists and foot on skin had increased. The enemy had edged closer.

I scrambled to my feet, Jasper's hands clutched in my own as I pulled him. Regaining his wits, he took on an attack.

My awareness shifted to the present. The faceless, vague mass had disappeared, replaced by a select few: their most elite fighters, the two remaining Gifted, and Maria herself.

Peter and Charlotte were keeping the Odynokinetic at bay, shoving, punching, and diving from side to side as they distracted him. His deep set eyes and hollow cheeks were darkened by frustration.

The Director, hovering by the edge of the clearing, had traded her cool expression for one of fear. As she had been asked to fight, her skills - and confidence - had lapsed. She looked like a cornered animal, one that would bolt given the slightest opportunity. I let her be.

I fought against a short man with Mayan features. He used his compact body like a missle, throwing himself against me again and again. My stomach cracked and fractured as I absorbed the beating.

Jasper fought two enemies: a tall blonde woman, almost his own height, and a brunette man made of only muscle. Jasper's strength was not full, and he struggled to manage the joint onslaught. Charlotte stepped away from his own fight, pulling the woman away from her friend. Jasper gritted his teeth, but accepted the help. His neck still ached, and had but a tenuous hold on his body. A slight jolt could knock it free.

Maria, the night personified, spit and howled as she danced between Rosalie and Emmett. If Emmett caught her, she bit his arms and forced him to release. As Rosalie lunged at her, she swiped claws at Rose's face. Her eyes glowed through her dark mane.

Jasper's teeth tore through the neck of his enemy. The body dropped at his feet.

I took another headbutt to torso, this spiderweb crack forming through my hip. My weight shifted to my left side, away from the injury. I snatched his coal black hair and yanked, but the vampire gripped my waist and strained against me. The stone would not tear. Jasper, fresh from his own kill, appeared at the man's feet. Jasper grabbed his shoulders, and we, together, pulled his head from his neck. I tossed the skull from me in disgust.

As I scoured for my next opponent, I saw the Director had disappeared into the fray. Her scent trail headed north. But she was gone, and that was all that mattered.

Only the blonde, Maria, and the Odynokinetic remained.

His loyalty to Maria was tested. Though Peter and Joanna were throwing hit after hit at him, he took the beatings on the chin. Instead of self defense, he defended Maria, inflicting torture on every vampire that approached her. His gaze was trained on her, desperation leaking from him.

"Maria," he begged, "help!"

She sneered at him, humor lighting her eyes as he flinched in agony.

Emmett moved against her, but the Odynokinetic slammed him with pain. The effect was no longer so intense, a mere fraction of his former strength. But Emmett still cringed away. Jasper ran at her next, but was hit with the same force. He dropped to one knee, gritting his teeth as he held back a scream.

"Oh, Mia Cariña," she cooed, "I'll give you one more chance. Come with me. Help me rebuild."

Jasper snarled, "I will kill you."

She clicked her tongue and shook her head, condescending. "Jasper, I enjoy your pain most of all."

Emmett made another run at her, but a sharp look from the Odynokinetic sent him reeling.

Charlotte and Alice made quick work of the blonde woman, having used their tiny statures to their advantage as they danced around the woman's lanky frame. As her body lay in pieces at their feet, Charlotte pulled a lighter from her pocket, and, with a metallic click, lit the tiny flame. As it fell from her hand, Alice gasped.

As the fire exploded towards the sky, only inches from her, Rosalie startled and became distracted. Maria, a tiny smirk pulling at her lip, descended. Before anyone could move against her, Maria had planted a foot in Rosalie's stomach, claws in Rose's skull. Her body crashed into the fire, blonde mane following a moment later.

"Rose!" Emmett yelled. He launched himself forward, toward Maria? No, towards the fire. His pain was palpable, thick in the air. And his eyes were trained on the flames, the flames that had consumed his wife. Jasper leapt after him, strong arms encircling his brother just at the heat began to lick Emmett's face, singeing the dark curls.

"Rose," Emmett cried.

Maria shrieked with laughter, her feet poised to run, to take advantage of our shock.

"Kill me, Jasper," Emmett begged, "Please kill me."

Jasper only gripped him tighter, wrestling him away from the fire. Alice joined the struggle, tucking herself into his stomach and shoving him backwards. He kept struggling, pushing towards the fire.

Peter and Charlotte advanced on Maria. I willed my gift forward, stretching across the space between me and them. I pictures the light show of synapses dulling, snuffing out each candle. The Odynokinetic stared them down, but they did not flinch. Maria's eyes sprung wide. She stumbled backwards.

Joanna swung against the Odynokinetic, he made a move towards a duck, but his attention was fractured. Her fist connected with his cheek, sending his body crashing into a nearby tree. The wood splintered around his form. His face was splintered too. She was on him before he could recover, wrenching his head away. Mere seconds passed and his body met flame.

Peter grabbed Maria's arm. She flailed against him, trying to wrench away but his strength far surpassed hers. She was pulling against a steel trap. When her wild attempts , she failed she dug her teeth into his forearm, cutting through flesh like butter. I pushed my gift in full strength, and Peter was protected. Maria screeched with frustration. She bit again, again, and again, leaving painless scars on Peter's arm until Charlotte managed to tangle a hand into her midnight hair. Charlotte yanked, exposing Maria's throat. Her unblemished throat. It was no credit to her skill, she fought like a Newborn: teeth and straightforward attacks. Someone else had always fought her battles for her.

Her chest heaved as she struggled against her captors.

"Hey, Major," Peter called. His eyes were locked on Maria's throat. "Wanna do the honors?"

Jasper readjusted his grip on Emmett, who had stopped fighting and slumped over his brother's arms. He cast a wary glance at the last dying embers of the closest fire, of all that was left of his adopted sister. He shook his head. "Go ahead, Peter. I want to be done with this."

I did not watch her die. I had seen enough destruction today, and in my lifetime, and it was all the same. As Maria's scream was cut short, I crossed the field to Joanna. As the fire cracked and sizzled with new kindling, I slipped my hand into my little sister's.

"I don't want to fight again, Sarah," she muttered, "never again."

Her words cut to my heart.

"Sarah?" Jasper called my name, "we're going back to the house."

The rope that tied me to him, the one that wrapped around my heart like a vice, was telling me to go.

But I glanced at the ash, watched as it danced in the light breeze. I glanced at Joanna. She gave a tiny shake of her head. I could not go. Not yet. The closure, the forgiveness I desperately needed mas here. Ash to ash, dust to dust, decaying in this clearing. Weakly, I called, "we'll stay and clean up."

There were stray limbs to burn, fires to put out. It was a worthy excuse.

"I'll be there soon," I said. He said nothing in return. Peter slipped an arm under Emmett's other shoulder and the two of them half dragged, half walked him. Charlotte and Alice trailed behind. I watched their backs until I could not see them anymore, then I watched the empty space a minute longer. My body was heavy. Every action was a mountain to move.

I bent to pick up a stray chunk of marble. It was a smooth round of flesh on one side; a scrap of white clothing hung off the tattered underneath. I dropped it into the fire.

' _Saints of God, Come to their aid. Come to meet them, Angels of the Lord."_

These people - Newborns, Enemies, whatever pejorative had sprung into mind in the heat of battle was gone - were victims. Unwitting pawns in Maria's chess game.

I repeated the action, repeated viaticum. Until I had worked my way to a tiny fire, flames still licking the sky. Matt and Heather's final resting place.

"I'm sorry Jojo," I whispered. Venom misted my eyes. "You shouldn't have been here. Heather and Matt shouldn't have been here."

"Shh," she said, "you needed help. I told you Morphine, that's what family's for. They thought so too. Matthew wouldn't have been able to live with himself if something had happened to you and we weren't there to stop it."

"Instead, something happened to them," I spit. Joanna kissed my cheek. The spot burned cold. My chest shook, and my voice broke as I said, "will you say you forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive."

"Joanna, please."

"I forgive you."

* * *

" _ **Start up the car,  
**_ _ **Bury your memories,  
**_ _ **Call on your lovers  
**_ _ **Speaking slow and heavy.  
**_ _ **Call up your boyfriends from out by the ocean,  
**_ _ **While I get my last rights read by a thief"**_


	21. Chapter 21 - Rachael

_**Behold the Hurricane - The Horrible Crowes**_

* * *

The field was cleaned spotless. A human eye would see no more than the remnants of a brushfire. To a vampire, the sweet perfume of venom clung to every leaf and blade of grass. A sheen of powdered marble covered the forest floor. A haze of purple smoke tinted the air. But these would fade with time. Joanna and I turned to leave. We had fallen into an uneasy silence, the battle still turning in my stomach. Guilt still turning in my stomach.

I longed for my mate, but dreaded the state I would find him in. The pain of the day would eventually eclipse him - my guilt, Emmett's grief, his own self-loathing. Had it happened yet? Perhaps, if I was with him when it did, I could offer some comfort.

New scents came sudden from both sides. From ahead: Jasper, Peter, and Alice, running fast towards us. From behind: orchids. Rachael.

I whipped around, Joanna beside me.

Rachael strutted, bathed in rich blue and gold, across the ruins, a peasant smile on her face and eyes dancing with curiosity. Her perfume washed through the air. Her velvet heels clicked through the glittering ashes. The smoky air and inky dawn shrouded her.

Jasper appeared at my side and rested a hand on my lower back. Whatever emotions he felt from me - I could not judge them myself - had disturbed him. I stepped closer, forming myself to him. His calm flowed into me. It steadied my quaking nerves.

His own emotions remained stable. Thank God for small favors.

Peter was at our flank, standing with a defensive posture, but Alice held back, shyly hugging the treeline. Her eyes were softly closed, revealing violet eyelids, and a smile drifted across her face.

Charlotte must have stayed back with Emmett, though I doubt anything could be of comfort to him now. Perhaps he and Joanna could commiserate.

"Rachael?" I asked. The unspoken question: 'What are you doing here?'

If not for the circumstances, I may just be happy to see her. If not happy, then certainly grateful as she had, for the upteenth time, saved my life.

She regarded us with a smile.

"Oh, Sarah!" Rachael cooed, her wine-colored eyes landing on Jasper. Excitement found her features. "I believe you've been usurped."

Usurped?

"Oh, it's amazing!" she cooed, "barely any purple at all."

I gripped Jasper's arm tightly, holding it - holding him - close to me. His confusion flowed fast through him, fueled by my sudden rush of anger. He took a protective half step in front of me. I imagined the questions in his mind. Is this a threat?

He raised his eyebrows. "Pardon?"

I leaned closer to him, near begging for his calm to wash me again. I was done with this, done with guilt, done with sadness.

My desires were granted. I sent Jasper my gratitude with a squeeze of my hand in his.

"Your aura, Darling," Rachael said, "didn't Sarah tell you?"

Jasper said nothing. I said nothing. I had told him of her, and her power, though not in specifics. It must have been the shock of her arrival that clouded his memory, or the pain of the day, losing a sister.

"Yours," Rachael sighed, "is exceptional. Nearly pure white."

My mate, more like a human than any other. I couldn't make much sense of it, though I could never find rhyme nor reason as to why I had previously held that place.

"Pure white?" Peter said, "like virginal? Man, I knew it!"

This was the same man who had, time after time, warned us not to break his house. I saw Jasper roll his eyes, but I was grateful for the levity. Despite My Love's best attempts, sadness was threatening to overtake me, drown me, crush me under their weight. The faces of my brother and sister, and would-be sister-in-law, were burning in my vision.

"Is your aura like innocence or somethin'? Cause I have some news for you," Peter said throwing his thumb in Jasper's direction.

An illusion to his past. A past that wasn't so distant anymore, thanks to me.

Jasper kissed my temple, replacing my feelings with love.

"No," Rachael said, "it's a measure of humanity. And you -"

She looked Peter up and down. He raised an eyebrow at her.

" - are unimpressive."

Peter scoffed. "You ain't too great yourself."

A musical giggle came from the treeline, and, for a moment, everyone's attention was on Alice. Her hand was over her mouth, trying to stifle the laugh and her eyes - bright and sparkling - were focused on Rachael.

As I tried to decipher Alice's outburst, Jasper's emotions flowed through our joined hands: intrigue and understanding. And a bit of happiness, though it was tempered.

I looked between Alice and Rachael, and they stared at each other.

"Sarah, you have very interesting friends," Rachael said, her eyes never leaving Alice, who was humming with happiness. "The lightest aura I have ever seen, and . . . my perfect middle."

Alice, a perfect middle. I pondered that. Would her aura be violet? Perhaps a shade of magenta? Though she remembered none of her human life, she interacted with them, free and uninhibited.

"Speaking of which," Rachael added, "I am truly very sorry for your loss. All of you. I hoped that I could arrive in time to assist, but . . ."

She trailed off. It was an empty offer and we all knew it; our unimpressed expressions must have finally made an impact. Our losses were too fresh, our injuries too recent. I realized I was leaning heavily on Jasper, the crack in my hip deep and debilitating. His hand slid from my back to my waist, slipping under my shirt and running his fingers gently over the damage. He frowned.

"Sarah, Doe, are you alright?" Rachael asked.

"I'm fine," I insisted, balancing my weight, despite the screaming pain in my hip. I began to worry that it was more than a mere crack; that it would form a brutal scar.

Alice chirped, "she'll be fine."

Her smile was reassuring, but I couldn't be sure. These injuries felt permanent.

"Let's get the hell outta this wasteland," Peter said, glancing around at the glittering ash. "Go back home."

I let my weight fall back against Jasper, leaning into him as he leaned into me. We turned together, following Peter back to his home and his mate. I reached for my sister's hand.

"Bye Matt. Bye Heather," I whispered, too low for even Jasper to hear.

Alice and Rachael fell into step together, talking and whispering. Somewhere along the walk, their hands twined together.

Just as we saw the house, Rachael took a step closer to me and she said, "I've always been able to see shades of humanity, but I have never understood what makes someone human."

I said nothing.

"I've figured it out, Doe," she hummed, "I have never met two people more edd up with self loathing and guilt than you and Jasper. That's it. Suffering."

I laughed aloud. Laughed at the utter ridiculousness of it.

"That's it?" I quoted, "Hundreds of years and that's the best you've come up with. 'To live is to suffer'?"

With a soft chuckle, she said, "Nietzsche was right all along."

* * *

" _ **And it's such a shame  
**_ _ **I heard the wind say this morning  
**_ _ **Be still my heart  
**_ _ **I age by years at the mention of your name"**_

* * *

A/N: Well, it took me a year, but I've finally posted the last chapter. Hopefully someone is still reading. Thank you so much for sticking with me! Please post a review and check out some of my other stories. I have one Jasper/OC story in progress and another in the works.

\- Elizabeth


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